In This City
by Basscop69
Summary: AU: 'Be with me always, take any form, drive me mad. Only do not leave me in this abyss where I cannot find you.' New York lies in ruins; Chuck and Blair have no one but each other. Contains violence. Very loosely inspired by Wuthering Heights.
1. Chapter 1

The sun sank red that evening. The sky was heavy, permeated with dull amber rays over the long decimated skyline of Manhattan. Its buildings, once proud, rose like jagged teeth that crumbled in the glow of the sun. Those once grid-like streets were now a wild jumble of newly-sprung alleys that cowered in the buildings' shadows. Only a few skyscrapers remained, thrust upwards in the dying light.

And in one skyscraper, in the last penthouse of what had once been the Upper East Side, the remnants of two families were gathered. A crowd surged below. A swarming mass of dirty bodies, bricks and glass and knives in hand as they battered down the front door. The elevator had been disabled, but that didn't stop their fervour from shoving them up the many stairs.

"I'd say we have five minutes," the man in the penthouse murmured. He was immaculately dressed, even in these times, his eyes blue and cold. His tone was brusque.

The woman at his side squeezed his arm, almost imperceptible. She had far darker eyes than her husband, slanted cheekbones and black hair. She closed her eyes now. "Dorota will look after them, won't she?"

The other woman stopped pacing. Her mouth was set in a grim line. "She will." She was as curt as the man. The truth was that Dorota would be lucky to get away from the building at all. But at least the children had a head start – that was all Eleanor was able to give them.

The Waldorfs and the Basses were the last of the old families left in Manhattan – the last that hadn't fled across the bridge to Brooklyn - and they were about to pay the price.

* * *

><p>They'd spotted Dorota. Not all of them – most were too busy flooding the building and baying for Upper East Side blood. But enough that she was forced to pick up her pace, struggling to hold the two babies as she fled through the uneven streets, heart hammering in her chest. A stone struck the back of her head.<p>

"Get the bitch!"

She'd been seen leaving the building and that was enough. She threw herself down a side alley. If she could just hide the children -

"Rich scum!"

She slid them into a dumpster, one after the other, trying to ease their wriggling bodies as she prayed they wouldn't make a noise. And then she turned, because her pursuers were upon her. She'd done all she could.

That night a scavenger prowling the site – bloodshed always resulted in good pickings – got the shock of his life when he heard a faint cry. Stepping over the body of the maid, he peered into the dumpster and was faced with an even bigger shock.

A baby.

No, not a baby – two babies.

Two squalling little bodies, a girl with wide brown eyes and a boy with even darker eyes, abandoned in the night. His baby fingers gripping her fist as two tiny hand curled around each other.

* * *

><p>Howard Archibald had made a mistake.<p>

One could argue that leaving Brooklyn at all was a mistake – no one ventured into Manhattan any more. Not unless they had a death wish. So said all the figures of authority in Brooklyn. But the most important figure and the highest authority – and Howard's father in-law – had sent him on a mission. The only people that usually braved the city were the traders; and it was dangerous, but usually worth it.

All Howard had needed to do was oversee the latest shipment.

But his guide was looking increasingly shifty and Howard had a nasty feeling that they'd just come down the wrong alley. The guide was peering at the buildings now, trying to conceal the fact that they were obviously lost. The sky was darkening. Of all the bad ideas, staying in the city past nightfall was the worst one.

Howard was about to give his bodyguard an order when he realised they'd reached a dead end.

He turned too late.

The guide was already dead.

He tried to move behind his guard as a series of ragged figures emerged from the shadows. "What have we got here, boys?" The voice was rough. Jeering. "Don't look like you belong here, sir."

The bodyguard raised his gun – but they got him first. A brick to the head. The people left in Manhattan were savages who didn't even have real weapons. But the twenty years of training Howard's bodyguard had gone through counted for nothing as he slumped to the ground in a pool of blood.

One of the men grinned at Howard. He had sharp teeth and that lean, hungry glint in his eye that they all did.

"Please," Howard attempted. "Just take the goods." William van der Bilt's looming presence was safe in Brooklyn meant nothing in this alley. Nothing when Howard could see the glint of a crude knife in the darkness. "Please-"

They laughed at him, this pathetic excuse for a man. Hands soft from not a day of labour. All pricey suit and no spine.

He went to move forwards, to reason with them as his breathing came in weak gasps. And then he choked, stumbling backwards as something struck him in the gut. The knife, he realised numbly, was embedded in his stomach. One of the other guys stepped up to finish the job.

And then there was a bang.

The men cursed, looking for something over their shoulders, attention no longer on the man slumped before them. Theirs was not a particularly big group, and a rival gang could pick them off in seconds. They forgot the goods and scarpered.

Howard leaned back against the brick wall, wheezing for breath as he tried to pull the knife out. He could feel his consciousness slipping.

He didn't even hear them approach.

But suddenly a white face was gazing down at him – a boy – a boy that looked no older than his own son. But this boy's face was sharp, slanted, and his eyes dark and strangely blank. Merciless. How could a child be merciless?

"Is he dead?"

A girl swam into Harold's vision. She was even smaller than the boy, penetrating brown eyes and dark hair pulled back. They both wore thin clothes and had the same fierce, half-starved look as they examined him.

"Not yet." The boy sounded as indifferent as she did.

"Please-" Howard attempted weakly.

They ignored him. He was going to die either way, and they had goods to take for themselves. Scaring away the men from earlier had been even easier than usual. This would be a quick, clean job.

Howard watching with fading vision as they set to work on the boxes, neatly slitting them open. The girl's voice was loaded with scorn as she emptied the contents of the first one. "It's all cigarettes." She'd been hoping for food, at least. Cigarettes were of no use to them – no one here was willing to trade them.

The boy scoffed. "This one too."

They spared the dying man quick glances of disgust. There was no compassion on either of their faces. He could at least have had something worthwhile.

"Check his wallet," the girl instructed, but the boy was already there. The girl slipped round to peer over his shoulder, both of their dark heads bent over the expensive leather. Money – useless here. Howard watched photos of his wife and son tossed to the ground. Neither of them had any interest in family.

Something shone – Howard's naval badge. It had been passed down from his father. The boy examined the bronze critically. They might be able to trade it. He slid it into the girl's hand.

"Come on. Let's get out of here."

They didn't even glance back as they disappeared into the night, hand in hand.

* * *

><p><strong>AN - So, like I said...this is very AU. I would almost call it crossover, except I got the idea from a number of films rather than one. (I recently watched 28 Days Later and The Book of Eli - plus The Hunger Games - call them inspiration?) Anyway, I don't think I've ever come across any future - as opposed to historical - fics, and there may be for a reason for that! So I have no idea if this will work. Personally, I'm interested in worlds like this, but I don't know if they necessarily work with Gossip Girl. I'm going to try, anyway! As mentioned, there will be violence. Chuck and Blair are not going to be nice people, but I hope as chapters develop they won't be unlikeable. Just a bit harder than their characters on the show. This is obviously just setting the scene - there will be much more CB and explanation to follow. And the 'Wuthering Heights' influence will become clearer. **

**So...please let me know if there's any interest to continue? :) **


	2. Chapter 2

They said that the Empire State Building was haunted. There was something ghostly about the way it loomed over the other buildings, several floors gaping and its height shrouded in low-lying fog. People had died when its top fell off a few years ago, crushing the streets below. People preferred the safety of low buildings now, closer to the ground and easier to escape. The rich that had used to live at the top were long murdered – proof that higher didn't mean safer.

But a building where hardly anyone dared venture was safe for two children that had never bothered with ghost stories anyway. They'd take imaginary phantoms over the very real threat of fellow gangs and looters any day.

They didn't have the time or the emotion to grow attached to buildings, but the Empire State had been a lair of sorts for the past few years. And there was something familiar about the gap that they slipped in now – the heavy bronze doors were long buckled – and the cracked marble under their feet. Inside it was dim and silent. Their voices echoed, however soft, but more importantly so did any intruder's. The two of them climbed the stairs silently, lithe as cats in each other's pace.

The man's guide had at least had a sandwich on him, a treasure wrapped in foil that they set down between them now. The boy propped his back against a marble column as the girl crossed her legs. It was her slender fingers that unwrapped their prize, and he watched without speaking as she neatly tore the loaded bread in two. Before they bit down, they exchanged a grin. He was content to watch her savour each bite as the rich meat exploded in his mouth – they hadn't had real meat in months. Raiding abandoned penthouses gave them champagne and rich cheese and caviar, but no fresh food. Not like this.

The boy leaned his head back once they'd both finished, dark eyes golden and content in his angular face. The girl sent him a smirk.

"I'd say that went pretty well, all things considered."

She tilted the badge idly – she could only just read, but the letters on it meant nothing to her.

The boy made a noise of satisfied agreement. It was always risky. More often than not, the gang would take the goods before they left. Or not leave at all. Or, worse still, come back too quickly.

"If we find Baizen tomorrow, we can find out what that thing's worth."

Her finger traced the engraved bumps on the metal as she wondered what foods they would earn her. She didn't need to glance at him to know he was thinking the same thing.

His fingers covered hers as he pushed the badge back into her pocket. "I'll take first watch."

"Feeling generous?" she mocked. They were full and content. The feeling didn't come much – so when it did, they grabbed it and held tight. She was already curling into a ball next to him as she gave him one last small smile.

* * *

><p>Less than an hour later, she jerked fully awake. Her body was already tensed as he held a finger to his lips, eyes slanted. There were voices. Footsteps from below.<p>

The two of them crept to the stairs so they could get a better look. There were four men – big ones – moving around in what had used to be the lobby. They didn't need to exchange even a word; they were both already flattening themselves against the wall. People only came here if they looking for something. Which meant they weren't likely to leave any time soon. And the exit was blocked.

"Let's try upstairs," one of the men grunted.

Chuck and Blair glanced at each other. Her hand slid into his, balance for both of them, as they turned and started moving higher first. The stairs in this building were treacherous and crumbling and had never meant to be used. But the only way to go now was up. They'd discovered a long time ago that the door opened to the roof of the building – what had once been the observation deck – and there was a way down from there. They just had to get to the top.

They leapt easily, noiselessly between the gaps in the steps as they climbed. He gripped her fingers tight, her nails pressed into him. They could still hear the voices. But the men were loud and lumbering like they all were, and Chuck and Blair would outrun them. They always did. He pulled her up the last of the steps as she pushed him on, the two of them sliding out onto the floor. The door was in reach -

He stilled. Turned the handle again.

The door was locked.

Impossible.

Her dark eyes whipped to his and she stepped up to try too. But it wasn't budging. They were frozen for a moment, two hands on the handle.

"They won't come up here," Chuck murmured. "No point."

Blair nodded. But both their gazes still flickered to the stairs. They'd spent most of their lives avoiding situations like this – making sure they were never trapped. It made both their hackles raise, instinctive. Chuck was already scanning the room for another exit route as Blair tried to calculate just how far away the men sounded.

They figured it out at the same time. There was no other way out – and the men were suddenly, impossibly close. Blair let out a hiss as the two children backed into each other. This was impossible. Impossible that the door had locked, impossible that the men had climbed so quickly -

They could hear the voices rounding the corner as they pressed themselves into the shadows. The men had been carrying weapons. Chuck and Blair had learned to fight because they had to, but they were better at running and hiding. Far more useful skills. And they wouldn't be able to overpower four fully grown men. They were always so aware and so prepared, always one step ahead. To be thrown into a situation like this, so suddenly, was impossible. Their worst nightmares come true.

They inched further away from the stairs – and the first man had arrived. He must have been looking for them, because his eyes moved straight to them.

"They're here!"

Chuck and Blair hit a wall and there was no escape. His hand found hers, impossibly tight. Both of them were snarling, wild-eyed as the men advanced.

And then the wall slid away behind them and they were falling backwards. They caught themselves, spinning just in time to realise that they were in a small compartment and there was a man, grinning at them, as the wall slid shut again. Not a wall. Doors.

They were in an elevator.

An elevator that they'd never even realised worked – and which was now descending rapidly. The man pressed the button for the ground floor and turned to address them, but Chuck and Blair were faster.

Chuck shoved him back, hard, against the elevator wall as Blair whipped out a shard of glass and had it pressed against his throat. The two of them were practically half his size but it made no difference.

The man raised his hands. "All right, kids. Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you."

"No," Chuck growled. "You're not." Blair pressed the sharp edge a little harder.

"Are you with them?" she demanded. "I'd think carefully before answering if I were you." The point drew blood.

"No," the man sighed. "I just know this building. I stayed here for a bit, a few years ago."

"And what?" Chuck's voice was little more than a sneer. "You thought you'd pay it another visit?"

He shrugged. "I was in town."

They did notice that his clothes were better than anyone else's in Manhattan. He was clearly better fed too; hard but well built, with healthy skin and close shaved brown blond hair. They sent each other the briefest of glances.

"You're from Brooklyn?"

"No," the man chuckled. "I'm from here. I just haven't been back in a while."

"So where have you been?"

His eyes gleamed. "All over the place."

Chuck's gaze narrowed in distrust. Blair's did the same. "I say we kill him. His clothes will fetch enough."

"And I quite like that jacket," Chuck agreed coldly.

"Is this the reward I get for saving your lives?"

The glass was dangerously close to his pulse point as the boy's hands tightened on his lapels. "This is the reward you get for thinking you needed to."

The man rolled his eyes a little. "Not that I don't admire your guts-"

"And we'll admire yours too," Chuck murmured, "When they're spread out on the floor."

The elevator came to a stop.

"All right," the man agreed. "You can kill me now. Take my clothes. But I'm not the threat here. Your little home was just broken into. You can put up all the fight you want, but from where I was standing, you looked pretty desperate just now. You lived here all this time and you didn't even work out there was an elevator?"

The children's faces hardened. "No elevators work any more," Chuck spat. "Everyone knows that."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Really? Just like everyone knows this building is haunted?"

It made them pause, for barely a second, but the glass wasn't taken away.

"Look," the man sighed again. "How about a deal?"

"What could you possibly have to offer us?" Blair snorted.

"If I die, then everything I know about this city dies with me."

"I think we can work out anything worth knowing for ourselves," came the boy's short answer.

The man nodded. "Well, I'm sure you will. Eventually. But why wait that long? If what I just saw is anything to go by, you could be dead by then."

"So you tell us your little secrets," Blair's voice was soft, deadly, "And we don't kill you?"

He shrugged. "Pretty much. You can always kill me after – what are you gonna lose?"

The boy and girl communicated with a slow look. The glass inched away as they moved closer, but they were still poised and ready as they tracked his every move.

"All right then. Speak."

His face broke into a lazy grin. "How about we get out of this elevator first?" He opened the doors and led the way. They followed close behind, and the glass never left her hand as they glanced at each other again. Both of them were also listening out for the other men – but they were obviously still upstairs. Or on their way down. Chuck nodded his head, briefly, at her. If the guy had information they could use then they'd take it.

And if he made a single wrong move then he was dead.

The man came to a stop once they were out of the building, the broken street lights slanting against his golden hair. He held out a hand as he faced them. He was still grinning like he could sense their distrust and it amused him.

"Well, since you've agreed not to kill me for now...I think some introductions are in order." Neither of them moved to take his hand. He chuckled a little as he glanced between them, shaking his head. "No? All right, I'll start. Pleased to meet you both." His teeth gleamed. "I'm Jack."

* * *

><p>Jack had taken them away from the building via a back street that they'd had to admit - though not to him, of course - that they didn't know about. And they knew <em>everything. <em>They'd been ready to attack him at any moment, but he'd made no move to double cross them. So far. He'd tried questioning them and got nothing. _They_ would be the one asking the questions.

He'd taken them to a tunnel they'd never even known existed. They'd refused to follow him in, and he'd finally sighed. He'd told them it was obvious he wouldn't be able to show them everything he knew in one night. Plus moving around this late was dangerous, and they had to be exhausted. (That had been met with a scoff from both of them).

"Look, the truth is - I like you. I guess you both remind me of when I was a kid. I know it's not easy being alone, so I want to help you."

They hadn't believed him for a second. No one just _wanted to help._ What they didn't understand was what, exactly, he thought he stood to gain from them. It was obvious that they had nothing. Then he'd pulled out two sandwiches from his bag and handed them one each. They'd already smelt the food, of course, and had been planning on stealing it for themselves later - but to be just _given _it threw them.

"I showed you some of what I know. And I've given you a meal for tonight - which I think makes us even. My clothes wouldn't be worth what's in those sandwiches." He'd gone to move away. Then he'd glanced over his shoulder. "But if you really want to know more - if you really want to learn how to take care of yourselves properly - then meet me tomorrow morning. Sunrise. Central Park. If not...well, good luck to you both. It's been a pleasure."

He'd disappeared.

Chuck and Blair had stared at each other for a moment. Then, wordlessly, they'd taken the sandwiches and set off in search of shelter for the night. Best to get off the streets. They hadn't wanted to go to any of their usual hide-outs for fear of the men - so they'd taken a while choosing, scouting the area and making sure there were several exit routes. A bitter wind had come upon the night, but they climbed up to the roof anyway. Neither of them wanted to be inside after how trapped they'd felt in the Empire State building.

They split one of the sandwiches and saved the other for later; but their mood couldn't have been more different from when they'd split their last sandwich. The huddled close together, cross-legged and knees touching as they chewed.

"I don't trust him."

Chuck was quietly vehement, and Blair nodded in agreement. "But can we use him?" she whispered.

Finding out they didn't know as much as they'd always thought had shaken them. Someone _helping _them - or seeming to help - had shaken them. In the twelve years that they'd lived, they'd learnt every day that in this city the only ones they could rely on were each other. They didn't need anyone else. Not the ruined church where the scavenger had dumped them in hopes of a reward - before the last order of nuns had eventually died or disappeared altogether - not the gang leader that had used them because they were small enough to climb through air vents of buildings, that had beat them if they'd failed. Not the other children that would attack them just because they were children themselves. They'd survived for one reason and one reason only - because they had each other. Because together they were tougher and colder and cleverer than any of the urchins that brawled in street corners.

"Just because he knows a few back streets-"

"We need to know them too."

Knowledge was power in this city. Muscle and weapons meant nothing if you knew ways to avoid them.

Chuck grimaced savagely as he finished his food. His black eyes locked on hers, their breath rising in clouds in the cold night air. "You think we should go."

She paused, gaze moving over his face as she swallowed the last of the bread. "I think we should be careful."

Chuck was silent for a moment. His elbows were sharp against his knees as he considered it, and she could see his mind turning it over. Hers was doing the same.

"At the very least," she pointed out, "He might have more food."

That made his lips curl a little.

He leaned against the brick wall, the most shelter there was from the wind, as she slipped into his lap. They were warmer this way. And the closer they slept, the quicker they'd wake if needed. This way she could lean against his chest, and he could prop his head on top of hers - bodies were infinitely softer than the ground. Her fingers curled, tight, on the tatty material of his shirt as his arms encircled her narrow shoulders. His chin was hard against her and she was grateful.

Sleep eventually took them.

* * *

><p><strong>AN - Thank you so much for all your wonderul reviews, I'm so so pleased there are people interested in this! (And er yes, I know I have Homecoming to finish...it won't be neglected. Promise!) Don't worry, Chuck and Blair will not be 12 year-olds for the rest of this fic. Thanks again for the feedback :) **


	3. Chapter 3

"You came."

Jack turned to them with a smile. He cut an impressive figure against the dawn, coat thick and black enough to make both children eye it hungrily. His eyes gleamed down at Blair, a brief smirk that stirred something familiar somewhere. She frowned and brushed it aside.

"So. First things first. Central Park."

The girl and boy spared their barren surroundings unimpressed glances. It was hardly a park anymore. Grass hadn't grown here for years – rubble scattered the soil, trees either dead or reduced to stumps. Neither of them liked the space because it was so flat. No stairs or corners to hide in and nowhere to go.

"That bridge over there." Jack nodded in the direction of a damaged stone construction. "There's a tunnel underneath – used to be water, and people extended it - that will take you to that building over there." He pointed in the distance and glanced back to see their reactions. Both kids' faces were resolutely blank but he knew they hadn't known about it.

"Show us," Chuck demanded at last. Suspicion laced his every movement.

Grinning, Jack did just that.

* * *

><p>He'd spent the entire day showing them passages and alleys through the city that they'd never have had a hope of finding on their own. He'd shown them buildings that looked like rubble from the outside, but offered perfect shelter once inside. And if Chuck and Blair hadn't known them then surely most people wouldn't.<p>

He'd given them food too. Plenty of it. Neither of them had been so full in a long time.

He'd offered them a place to stay for the night, which they'd refused. But they had agreed to meet him the next morning so he could show them more. And he'd given them dinner to take back. Chuck and Blair were greedy and they grabbed whatever they could get their hands on. So why did Jack's never-ending supply of food suddenly make Chuck so...uneasy? Blair didn't see it as being dependent on the man, pointing out that they might as well stock up while they could. And Chuck had to agree.

But still the only time he realised he was at ease, completely, was when he fell asleep curled up next to Blair and Jack was nowhere in sight.

When Blair woke up the next morning, Chuck's hair was practically in her mouth and his nose brushed her neck. She held herself still so that he wouldn't wake up, because for some reason sometimes these moments were better than the most delicious meal and the warmest room. They were hot and not as comfortable but somehow still better, because they smelt of Chuck. She'd been dreaming last night. She didn't usually sleep deep enough to dream, so the food must have got to her. She'd been dreaming about a smirk. And she suddenly realised with a jerk that she didn't know whose. It whispered at the edge of her mind – Jack's smirk was familiar because it was like Chuck's? - but that was impossible. She dismissed the faintly disturbing thoughts as she came to fully, the last wisps of sleep disappearing as she nudged Chuck in the ribs.

"Hm." The food had obviously affected him too – and that was dangerous, she realised.

She tugged at his hair. "Wake up."

His golden eyes focused as his hold tightened for a moment round her. "Worried we'll be late for Jack?" he muttered, but he was already awake. Blair uncurled her body from his as they both got up.

If it was anything like yesterday, then they had a long day ahead of them.

* * *

><p>That evening Jack told them he wanted to show them something. He led them into a building that had once been apartments, and slipped open the door of one that had almost intact rooms. It was grimy inside, wallpaper peeling and the carpets ragged. But there was furniture. Furniture that looters obviously hadn't discovered yet, thanks to the building's exterior. And then he showed them the oven.<p>

Blair was studying it closely when the flame leapt up; she jolted backwards and straight into Jack. He caught her arms and she tensed instantly. His hands were large and his grip warm. And still something about that smirk as he gazed down at her produced a strange unsettling flutter. Familiar. She yanked herself away.

He just smiled. "I bet you've never learnt how to cook, have you?"

Neither Chuck or Blair had ever had pasta before. Not cooked pasta, anyway. It was hot and soft and it melted in their mouths. Jack told stories while they ate. He had a wicked sense of humour; they'd never _talked _to an adult before. Not like this.

Chuck glanced across and was relieved that Blair was, at least, here – she glanced at him too, and he saw the same relief. This was too strange.

They stood up to go as night fell, alarmed at how much time had passed. There were no windows in the kitchen and they hadn't seen the sky.

"Stay," Jack suggested.

Chuck was already saying no.

"The door's unlocked," Jack pointed out. "You can take the bedroom right by the exit. If I was really going to hurt you, don't you think I'd have done it by now? It's late out. And cold. Why sleep on a roof again, when there's a room here?"

He'd shown them the bed and he'd seen the gleam of hunger under their impassive expressions. Children were still children. He'd told them that the offer was there, anyway, and gone back into the kitchen.

Blair and Chuck eyed the mattress warily. The pillows. They hadn't slept on a bed for a long time.

"I'll take first watch," Blair murmured, cautious.

Chuck shook his head. "I can't sleep now."

She paused. "We'll leave."

He shook his head again, eyes slanted. "You sleep. We should take advantage of this while we can." They weren't likely to get a bed again any time soon.

He watched as she crept towards it. She glanced up at him as she lowered herself onto the bare mattress. Her mouth curved a little.

"Better than the floor?"

"Better than the floor." She tucked herself into a ball regardless of the vast room that the mattress afforded. He sat next to her so that the white didn't engulf her quite so much, and his heat made her relax. Her breathing evened out after a while, but he still couldn't relax himself. The pasta sat heavy in his stomach. He could hear Jack moving about in the kitchen, and he was tense as he tracked every sound.

Jack hadn't come to see whether they'd left of not. He'd known that they'd take the bed, and that made Chuck tense even more. He got to his feet. Blair was still asleep; he gave her one last glance before he slipped out of the door.

Jack was sitting at the chipped kitchen counter with a glass of something Chuck had seen in smashed liquor cabinets. It burned when you drank it, he knew that much. He and Blair had both sworn not to touch it again after they'd been violently ill – throwing up that much weakened them and it was dangerous. He wondered how the hell Jack was managing to drink it.

The man looked at him now and smiled. "Couldn't sleep?"

Chuck didn't return the smile. He regarded the guy icily. "I want to know why you're doing this."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Doing what? Giving you food and a place to stay? Last time I checked, Chuck, that wasn't a bad thing."

"We don't need you." Chuck's eyes were black and his lip twisted. "We don't need your food, and we don't need your filthy bed."

Jack regarded him for a moment. "Your little friend's fast asleep right now, isn't she? I'd say she does need a hot meal and a warm bed. However filthy." He sighed. "I understand, Chuck. You've looked after yourselves for this long – and you've done a great job. You have. But don't you think you deserve more? Don't you think _she _deserves more? You're tough kids. But there's only two of you. And sooner or later, that's not going to be enough."

"It has been for twelve years," Chuck snarled.

"Because you're clever," Jack pointed out. "And resourceful. And, to be honest, pretty damn lucky. Because the second you come across someone you can't beat – and there are plenty of people out there – you'll be gone. You both will." He shook his head. "You can't run for ever, kiddo."

"Well, that's not really any of your business, is it?" Chuck's fists were clenched as he went to turn away, his jaw set.

Jack exhaled. "Actually, it is." Chuck went to ignore him. "I haven't been honest with you," Jack explained. He was watching him carefully. "The reason I care is because...I'm family. I was hoping for a better way to tell you this. I'm your uncle, Chuck."

The boy had gone completely rigid. And the girl was suddenly there, staring at him too. She'd woken because Chuck had left and had come to find him, just in time to hear those last words.

"Chuck," Jack sighed, going to put a hand on the boy's shoulder – he jerked away like a wild animal. Moving back to the girl.

Away from Jack. "You're lying. My family is dead." He grabbed the girl's hand and he was dragging her away, out of the apartment, shaking his head. "We're leaving, and we're not coming back. If you try to follow us then I'll kill you." He refused to even look at the man. The door slammed shut behind them.

* * *

><p>Chuck was silent as they both sat on the rooftop. It was even colder than it had been yesterday, but she didn't let herself shiver as she watched him out of the corner of her eye.<p>

She waited.

"What?"

She was silent. She knew Chuck.

And it was the silence that caught him, because Blair always demanded answers. He glanced at her. "I don't have any family. You know that. Neither of us do."

"But what if he is your uncle?" she asked quietly.

"I don't need him."

"And if he knows your...parents?" It hurt her just to say it.

He forced a scoff because it hurt him too. _Parents? _"Makes no difference." He turned to her, and his dark eyes were wild. "He's lying, Blair."

"But what if he's your family?"

His fingers dug into hers as he ground it out. "_You're _my family." They didn't need anyone else. They never had before, and they didn't now. Blair said nothing for a moment. She wrapped her arms around his still rigid shoulders and she held on, fiercely. He was stiff in her grip; but his head moved, slowly, till it was set against her shoulder. She felt him close his eyes and she buried her mouth in his hair. He was still gripping her hand when they finally fell asleep.

* * *

><p>Jack was enjoying the last remnants of his scotch when she showed up. Now that he hadn't expected.<p>

She stood before him in the kitchen, arms wrapped round herself. She looked about as savage as the boy did even though she was smaller and her eyes wider. He noticed, as he had before, that she was only just starting to develop. A slight swell under her thin shirt. Soon it would be lust too, and then the boy was a goner.

"Where's Chuck?" he asked her now.

She ignored his question. "Is it true?"

"Did he send you here?" The man's expression was suddenly gentle as he took her in. "Come here. You look frozen."

"Shut up," she hissed. "Just tell me if it's true or not." Because she knew that Chuck would want to know in the end. Even if he didn't want this man – he'd still want to know. And there had to be a reason that Jack's smirk was so similar to Chuck's -

Jack got up now. He took the girl's arm. "You're cold. Come here." He guided her in front of the oven. "Better?"

She twisted in his grip. "Are you Chuck's uncle or not?"

He ran his hand up her bare arm. "Yes," he leaned down into her. "I am." His touch made her feel suddenly sick. He smiled. It wasn't like Chuck's smirk any more. He was still stroking the skin along her forearm and his body had trapped hers against the oven. She writhed and he murmured, "Shh. I'm telling the truth. Chuck's my nephew, and I want to see him." He cupped her face.

She went slack for a moment. And then she kneed him, hard, in the groin, and broke free with one violent jerk. She ran.

Chuck caught her outside, grabbing her – he must have woken up and come after her – and her hands fisted on his ragged collar, pressing her face against him because he smelt of Chuck and that was all she wanted. She clung tight as her fingers ran over the familiar planes of his face.

"I just wanted to find out if – I just wanted to be sure." She shook as she gripped him.

Chuck was silent, his heart thumping against hers. "And?" he asked at last, voice low in his throat.

Blair buried her face into the crook of his neck so he couldn't see her face. "You were right." She finally looked up at him, and her cheeks were pale in the darkness. "Let's get out of here." Away from Jack. As far away as they could possibly go. He nodded once, and then they were gone.

Jack watched the two small figures disappear down the street. "Follow them," he murmured to the man at his side. "You can hit the girl – kill her if you can. But don't touch the boy."

* * *

><p><strong>AN - Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews! **


	4. Chapter 4

They were halfway to the building when they knew they were being followed. They kept moving, not slowing down as they skulked closer to the shadows. They avoided the building by unspoken consent and aimed for a tunnel they knew instead. Both their hearts were thudding but they carried on. They would outrun whoever it was. They would hide.

The man ahead of them stepped out too quickly. How the hell had someone got in front?

They didn't hesitate. Chuck grabbed Blair's hand and they ran, diving into the nearest apartment block and hitting the stairs. Their small legs pounded upwards, yanking each other along. They'd recognised the man, recognised him coming up the stairs of the Empire State building. If they'd had time they might have wondered who the hell these people were, and why were they wasting their time chasing after two children. But for now escape was their only thought.

Chuck kicked the access to the roof open, and both of them raced to the edge. He gave her a leg up onto the crumbling wall and she grabbed his arms, tugging him up after her. The parapet was narrow under their feet. Quickly, they edged along until they reached the ariel that connected to the next building. They heard the door slam open behind them. Blair didn't need to look behind to reach for Chuck's hand; they seized the ariel and they jumped, hurtling across the gap and scrabbling to climb up the next building.

There was a bang, but they kept running. The men couldn't get across. They were too heavy. Chuck and Blair reached the door leading into the building and started on the stairs, down this time. He felt Blair almost slip behind him and grabbed her. It wasn't till he felt the wetness that he stopped. Blair swayed in his grip and her face was white. He stared, in horror, at the blood._ The bang_. No, no, no. This couldn't be happening.

He sank down on the stairwell as she lolled against him.

His hand slipped to her side, grazing her waist where the blood soaked her clothes darker. He gripped her shoulders. "Blair." Her eyes fluttered. "Blair," he hissed, feeling desperately for her heartbeat. It was sluggish under his hand. She couldn't leave him. She couldn't. She couldn't _leave _him_._ He pressed his head against hers, trying in vain to stop the blood. "Blair," he cried again, feeling like a little boy as he cradled her. "Wake up," he pleaded between gritted teeth. "Wake up."

The thought of getting help didn't even cross his mind. Because there was no one to help and nowhere to go; they'd never cared before. But he felt suddenly, overwhelmingly alone as he held the small girl fast and tried to force her to live. To stay. He squeezed his eyes shut and kept his hand above her heart, clutching uselessly at her ruined shirt.

A shadow fell over him.

He jerked over her body instantly, slamming himself in front of whoever it was and covering her as his eyes shot up. He held her tight.

"Let me see," Jack said grimly.

"Get away," Chuck hissed. He didn't let go.

Jack's hand was heavy on his shoulder for a second. "I have some first aid training - just let me look at her. Let me help." He firmly prised Chuck away to bend down at Blair's side. "She's been shot." He assessed the wound and Chuck had to fight not to rip the man's hands off her.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I followed you," Jack sighed. "I was worried." He glanced up. "The bullet went pretty far in. I need to treat it."

Chuck's eyes slanted in instant suspicion, but his breathing was still harsh as he took in her limp figure, his world spinning out of control. "You can help her?"

"Yes," Jack promised. "But we need to move now." He went to lift her up - Chuck moved forward, snarling, but Jack stopped him with a single hand. "I'll take her. You keep an eye out for those men."

Chuck had no choice but to follow him. His body was tensed in case the men showed up again, but his eyes never left Blair.

* * *

><p>He watched as Jack laid her on the table, pulling out a box, and went to work. He sat hunched at her side and he refused to move. So Jack left him. Chuck breathed only through his nose, shoulders tight. Jack pulled out the alcohol and the boy jerked, demanding to know what he was doing. He looked about ready to knock the bottle out of his hand.<p>

"I need to clean it," Jack sighed. "Look, just trust me. I know what I'm doing."

Chuck watched unflinching, fingers clenched, while the blood was cleaned and the bullet removed. There was a faint moan from Blair's throat - his hand fisted over hers. But she didn't wake. He didn't know how much time had passed when Jack finally moved away.

Chuck's eyes flickered to him only then. "Well?" He wanted to feel her heart beat. He could see her chest rise and fall and it made him breathe again. But still he didn't trust it, didn't believe. He'd been about to _lose_ her.

"She should be all right," Jack responded. "She needs rest." He glanced at the boy and waved his bloody hands. "I'm gonna wash." He disappeared.

Chuck didn't move from her side.

He was in the same place when Jack came back a while later and slid him plate of food. Chuck looked at it with obvious distrust.

"Eat," Jack prompted. "You look like you're about to collapse."

The boy glared at him, baleful, as he took the first bite. His hand stayed clutched around the girl's even as he emptied the plate, gaze skimming to Jack a few times and then, always, back to her. "When's she going to wake up?"

Jack shrugged. "I don't know. Whenever she's ready." He looked at the boy again. "She's fine, kiddo. She's going to be ok."

Chuck just narrowed his eyes at him. "Why are you helping us?"

"Not even a thank you?" Jack chuckled. "You are your father's son."

He stiffened instantly. "You don't know my father." He didn't have a father.

Jack shook his head in answer. "I grew up with him. I knew him pretty well. I told your friend all I wanted to do was speak to you - see how you were getting along. But," he raised a shoulder, "We're still family. Whether you like it or not."

Chuck scowled for a second, aware that wasn't the impression he'd got from Blair. And he knew who he believed of the two. "You're not my uncle."

Jack glanced at the unconcious girl. "Did she tell you that?" His mouth twitched. "I know it's just been the two of you, Chuck, and she probably thinks you don't need anyone else - but that doesn't change facts. I _am_ your uncle."

Chuck glowered at him. "How did you find me, then?" he sneered.

"I've been looking all over the city," Jack explained. "I wasn't even sure if you were alive. But like I said, you're your father's son. Resourceful."

The boy grit his teeth. "So who is my father?"

Jack smiled sadly. "He's dead now, kiddo. You must've known that. But he was a great man."

Chuck scoffed.

But Jack knew that somewhere, deep down, he was getting to him. What child didn't want to know their parents? "They were murdered," he said gently. "Your mom and dad. But they loved you a hell of a lot."

The boy turned away like he wasn't listening. He watched the girl instead, and Jack saw his breathing even. "Those men had guns," he said, abrupt. No one here had guns. No one here bothered to track down two children.

Jack nodded. "They must have been from Brooklyn."

He could tell that the kid still couldn't make sense of it.

"They want to move back into the city," he offered. "Those old families. They're hunting kids because they want the people here to die out."

Chuck ignored him.

"I told you, Chuck. You can't hide forever."

"We don't need you," the boy repeated.

But his eyes had moved back to the girl, her face white and her body still. He had to focus on the movement of her chest to reassure him. Blair never looked anything less than a hundred percent fierce, and she seemed impossibly small right now in comparison.

Jack's hand rested for a moment against him. It was warm. "I'm still here for you."

* * *

><p>Chuck regarded Jack in silence as he cooked at the oven. The man could feel those dark eyes tracking him. He smiled and carried on frying the bread, letting the delicious smell saturate the room.<p>

"How did you know all that?" Chuck asked curtly. "How to make the bleeding stop?" Blair still hadn't woken up, but Jack had changed the dressing at her side and reassured him that she was doing well.

He spared the kid a glance now. "I've been trained."

There was silence for a moment. "By who?"

He knew Chuck wanted the same training. Wanted to be able to save her. He let the pause drag out. "I can't tell you that," he said at last, watching the boy's reaction. The scowl was immediate. Chuck shut his mouth, resolutely. "You don't trust me," Jack pointed out. "Why should I trust you?"

"You shouldn't," Chuck retorted.

That made Jack chuckle. "I guess even familes have secrets." Chuck's gaze narrowed at that. He appreciated secrets. But he and Blair didn't have any from each other - how could they? Jack was serving up the bread now. He handed Chuck a large, hot piece and studied him. "What if I told you there was somewhere you'd never have to be alone again? Somewhere that could give you the protection you need?" He tilted his head. "Better food than this. A place to stay. Training."

Chuck tore off a piece of the bread and looked at Jack coldly. "What do you want?"

Jack let out a sigh. "To make sure you're ok, kiddo. That's all."

The boy looked like he might have said something - but there was a noise at that moment from the other room. He was on his feet in an instant, back turned to Jack. She was awake.

* * *

><p>"Blair."<p>

She blinked, slowly, as her eyes focused on him. She tried to sit up - her head hurt and her entire torso burned. The last thing she remembered was the stairs passing in a blur and her grip slipping from Chuck's. But he was at her side now and she'd never been more relieved to see him as her fingers tightened over his.

"What happened?" she muttered. Her voice was hoarse, and her body tensed as she went to move up again. Where were they?

"We're safe."

She relaxed and trusted him implicity.

"So how's the patient?"

And just like that she froze, nails biting into Chuck as she saw the man over his shoulder. She went to jerk out of the bed, backing against the wall as she tried to pull Chuck with her. "What the hell are you doing here?" Her eyes wildly sought Chuck's.

Jack laughed. "This is my apartment, remember?"

Her gaze skimmed the room, now familiar, and she pulled at Chuck again. They needed to get out. But Chuck gripped her, holding her still. "It's ok," he murmured against her. He didn't look at Jack. "He helped."

Blair shook her head.

"You got shot." Chuck's fingers dug into hers, forcing her to stay. "You're ok now." His voice was only audible to her as the two children looked at each other.

Jack raised his hands. "I'll go get dinner, shall I?" He slipped out again.

"We can't trust him," Blair hissed once he was gone. "We shouldn't be here."

Chuck's eyes fell to her wound. It had started bleeding again, red against the white fabric, just because she'd moved. "We need him." Even if they stole Jack's first aid box, Chuck wouldn't have the first clue how to use it.

"We don't need_ anyone,_" she insisted as she grabbed Chuck closer. "Least of all him. Why's he even helping us? What does he want?"

Chuck's jaw tightened. "He says he's my uncle."

"He's _lying. _And even if he is, that doesn't mean we can trust him."

"You're the one who said we could use him," Chuck pointed out. "And you were right." He touched her side and she flinched despite herself. His eyes were almost black. "We need him," he repeated. "For now."

* * *

><p>"It's a bad idea."<p>

Chuck's eyes shot up to Jack's. "What is?" he snapped as he scanned the man.

Jack exhaled. "Do you know who your target is? He's one of the most powerful men in Brooklyn. He'll have guards. Lots of them."

Blair had been the one who'd heard, through another gang, about the latest venture into Manhattan. The thieves were lining up as they spoke. And Chuck and Blair intended on going for gold - it had been long enough. Blair's wound had healed. Jack had convinced them to stay in the apartment just so he could keep an eye on it; Blair stayed out as much as she could, only returning at night. She'd set on this latest target with a particular determination. (She would prove to Chuck that they didn't need Jack).

Chuck stared at Jack now. How the hell had he known?

"I'm not following you," Jack sighed. "But I'm not a fool, and I listen to the rumours too. I'm telling you this is a bad idea. For you both."

"We don't need your advice."

"Well you should take it," the man replied. "I don't want to lose you, kiddo." Chuck went to turn away. "I'm leaving," Jack called after him.

That made the boy whirl round. He kept his face blank. "What?"

"The place I was telling you about," Jack murmured. "I need to go back. I was only meant to be here for a few days anyway."

Chuck watched him for a second before he closed off. He shrugged. "Fine."

"Come with me."

The boy stred at Jack like he was insane. "What?" His voice was stiff.

"Come with me," Jack repeated. "Both of you. You stand a better chance of suriving than you ever would on your own. This place can help you."

"We don't-"

"Need my help," Jack rolled his eyes. "I know. But I'm offering anyway. This city is getting more dangerous every day - how long before you get caught again? Think about it," he pressed. "I leave tomorrow."

Before he could add anything else, the door swung open and Blair slid in. She ignored Jack. "Chuck?" She glanced at him. Chuck tore his eyes away from Jack, and he was already moving with her into the bedroom as they shut the door behind them.

She watched him. "What was all that about?"

"Jack's going. He wants us to come with him."

Her back arched as she jolted away. "No."

Chuck shook his head. "I told him no." But she could see it flicker in his eyes.

"We need to get away from him," she said fiercely.

Chuck was still for a second. "He helped us." She opened her mouth, but he shook his head. "What if those men come back?"

"We can't trust him!"

Chuck caught her arms. "Why not?" Because what was it that had riled her up? Why did she suddenly seem to hate Jack so much? He couldn't understand it. They were both logical. Blair had been the one pushing for Jack first - right up until he'd told Chuck he was his uncle.

She shook her head. How was she supposed to explain that night? Nothing had happened - but something had. Something wrong that she couldn't articulate to him. She didn't understand any more than he did why Jack suddenly gave her chills everytime she looked at him. Why the thought of his hand on her arm -

She couldn't let anything happen to Chuck. "We just can't. You have to believe me."

He studied her wild eyes. He knew her. He trusted her. But for the first time, he didn't understand her. "Blair-"

"They're planning on attacking tomorrow," she interupted him. "The guy's going to be across town. We should scout the area, work out the best way to scare them off." She had to bring it back to this. She had to get Chuck to focus on what they did best - what they'd always done.

Chuck shook his head brusquely. "I don't think we should do it."

She stared at him. "What?"

"Apparently it's somone important. It might be too risky."

"According to who?" she demanded. "Jack?"

Chuck pressed his lips together. "Look, he's been right about everything else-"

"We don't do what Jack tells us to!" Her voice shook with savage fury.

But he was just as savage. "And we don't jump headfirst into danger." She hadn't nearly lost him. She hadn't had to watch as his life slipped away before her, knowing she could do nothing. He wasn't going to lose her again.

She grabbed his wrists. "You're letting Jack control you," she hissed desperately. Chuck couldn't start relying on him. Not _him_. "Saying we can't do things and following him around - it's _wrong. _It's stupid. We were perfectly fine before he came along. We don't need him." She held his wrists tighter. "He's not our family."

"No," Chuck snapped suddenly, viciously, "He's mine."

Blair looked, for a second, like he'd slapped her. She let go of his wrists. Chuck wasn't sure why he'd said it. "Fine," she said at last. "You stay here and let him destroy you. See if I care." She turned, pulled the door open, and ran away.

Chuck stared after her.

"Chuck?" Jack stuck his head round the frame. "What's going on?"

Chuck snarled and shoved past him, disappearing into the night himself.

* * *

><p>Blair sat huddled alone on a rooftop. She <em>did <em>care. She wasn't leaving Chuck with Jack. Why couldn't Chuck see what a threat he was? Fine, she decided. She would see just how trustworthy Jack was being. Chuck was right - they didn't dive headfirst into danger. So she would go and check out the situation for herself, from a safe distance. If Jack was right and the guy coming into the city had more guards than usual, then she would go back to Chuck and admit she'd been wrong. If not then he would see once and for all that his uncle couldn't be trusted. That he was just trying to manipulate them.

She slipped back to the apartment first. There was no sign of Chuck, so she left him a mark in the window dust. When he saw it he would know where she was.

Jack waited till the girl had left before sweeping the mark away with one brush of his sleeve.

* * *

><p>The Brooklyite was staying in one of the more intact buildings, clearly hoping that the walls would give him some protection. Or trap him, Blair thought as she slipped through the hole that led into the air ducts. She was still small enough to crawl through. She inched her way along, rusted metal cold underneath her, towards the sound of voices.<p>

She just had to count how many guards there were. Find out whether or not any gang stood a chance of going against them.

She continued to crawl till she reached the opening that allowed her to peer down into the first room. She'd been expecting to see, if not the man himself, at the least his bodyguards - but what she actually saw made her freeze.

There was a child in there.

A boy of around her age, and nothing like any kid she'd seen before. He had thick, clean golden hair and wide blue eyes, round cheeks and a solid well-fed body. He wore the cleanest clothes she'd ever seen, a crisp shirt and a thick jumper as blue as his eyes. She eased further forward on her stomach to get a better look. She'd seen adults from Brooklyn, but never the kids. Because who would be stupid enough to bring a child _here_?

Someone with a lot of guards, she realised. She needed to get out. Fast. She glanced one more time at the boy below, still caught despite herself. He was as light and nourished as Chuck and her were dark and hungry.

He kept fidgeting on his seat, shaking his blond hair out of his eyes. She was just wondering why he didn't just get up and go when his head tilted, eyes roaming the room aimlessly - and then landed on her. She saw his mouth form a round 'o' of amazement and she darted back, cursing. He'd seen her. The boy had _seen _her.

"Wait," she heard him call, "Come back!"

There were grown-up voices then. "Nathaniel? What's going on?"

She shot along the ducts in retreat - but they'd heard her, and there was a sudden almighty bang as a bullet fired through the metal. She flattened instantly. The next bullet was mere seconds away.

"Stop," the boy cried, "You'll hurt her-"

And then there was a grinding screech and the floor of the duct fell out beneath her as someone pulled the entire thing down. She landed in a cloud of dust and rust, hit the ground and leapt up, already running. But a hand seized her and she was lifted, easily, off her feet.

She was dragged forwards and dumped in front of the stern face of an old man. Even then she writhed, biting and twisting like a wild-cat to get away - so the man struck her.

"Grandfather!" the boy gasped.

"Stay back, Nathaniel. These people are dangerous."

Blair realised that fight now was futile. So she curled back on her haunches, dark eyes slanted as she took in her surroundings. Eight guards in this room alone. The man was glaring down at her, his face hard and his hair iron grey.

"Who sent you?" he demanded.

She said nothing.

He saw the challenge and his eyes flamed. He struck her again, heavy signet ring catching her cheek. The boy let out another cry, like _he _was the one who'd just been hit. Blair didn't flinch. "Stop it! She's a little girl, granddad!"

The man ignored him and lifted his hand again. "Answer me."

And then the boy was suddenly between them, stopping the blow before it hit her. His angelic face was creased in hurt. "I said stop."

The man looked for a second like he might be considering striking his grandson too - but he didn't, of course. "Nathaniel," he sighed. "She'd probably been sent to spy on us. Come away from her."

_Nathaniel_, however, was busy peering at her cheek. "You bruised her. You're not supposed to hit girls."

"She probably has a knife," the man snapped. "Move away."

"She's just a little girl," the boy said again, hotly.

Blair thought about it for a moment and then decided she could use this to her advantage. She cowered. The boy saw, and his eyes filled with concern.

"We're not going to hurt you."

She saw, out of the corner of her eye, the man raise his gaze heavenwards. The bodyguards still had their weapons pointed at her.

"What's your name?" the boy asked softly.

She made her voice as small as possible. "Blair."

"Where's your parents?"

She pressed her nails into her palm, hidden, till tears formed in her eyes. "I don't have any," she whispered. "They're dead."

The man was watching her, now, as she hid behind the boy.

"Please don't kill me."

He shook his head in disbelief. "Nathaniel. Leave her."

"I'm Nate." The boy ignored his grandfather, addressing Blair. "And I promise no one's going to kill you." His voice was firm. He finally turned to the old man. "We need to help her."

"We do not."

"Father had more protection than she did," Nate insisted. He worried his lip and it shook for a moment. "And look what happened to him. We can't just leave her here."

She saw something in the man's face. Something the boy didn't. She got the sense that this Nathaniel wasn't accustomed to fighting for anything - something had upset him. Something that the man didn't want him to know.

"All right," he sighed at last. "You can keep her." He spared his guards a glance. "After she's been checked for weapons." They seized her again as he went to leave; his nose wrinkled for a moment. "And at least clean her. She can have one of Nathaniel's shirts." The last thing he wanted was his grandson getting some kind of disease.

The boy looked relieved.

She'd avoided being killed. But she was trapped, she realised with a sickening swoop to her stomach.

_Chuck. _

* * *

><p>Chuck had come back to the penthouse only because he was hoping Blair would be there. But there had been no sign of her all night and morning light was starting to streak through the room. He knew she'd been angry, but she should have been back by now. Anger didn't make them reckless. He was just searching, again, to see if she'd left him any kind of message when Jack appeared.<p>

"Thought I'd come and see if you were any closer to changing your mind. I'm off in an hour." He scanned the room, raising a brow. "Where's your partner in crime?"

"I don't know," Chuck growled. He was already heading out the door. He was going to find her. They always found each other.

Jack paused a moment. "Do you think she ran away?"

The boy rounded on him. "Of course not." They didn't run away, not from each other. He stared darkly at the man. (Something else occurred to him, though - the attack was meant to happen today. But she couldn't have gone by herself. She wouldn't, not without telling him).

Jack sighed. "I heard your fight. Seemed pretty ugly."

"And none of your business."

"Chuck," Jack murmured. "You can't blame her. You've got family and she doesn't. It was always going to be tough for her."

"You're not my family," Chuck answered, short. "She is." And he walked out without a backwards glance.

But by the time he got to the end of the street, Jack had followed him. The man shook his head as he looked down briefly at him. "I'll help you look."

* * *

><p>They attacked at dawn, earlier than planned, and they were slaughtered. Nearly twenty men and women gunned down by William van der Bilt's bodyguards - they didn't stand a chance. The children who came to scavenge afterwards were killed too.<p>

By the time Chuck got there, the apartment was littered with bodies. For the first time the corpses made him want to heave. He searched frantically, turning over faces, blank with terror that he'd find there.

"Blair!"

There was a girl with dark, matted hair - but she was too tall. Her hands were the wrong size.

He called her name again as panic clawed his throat. She couldn't have come here. She couldn't. He felt Jack come up behind him, that hand on his shoulder again. "Chuck-"

He ripped himself free. She couldn't have come here.

"No one could have escaped," Jack murmured. "I'm sorry, kiddo."

"She's not here," Chuck snarled back. Jack tried to catch him and he lashed out violently, striking him in the face. Her body wasn't here. That meant that she _had _to be alive. And he wasn't going to rest until he found her.

* * *

><p>"So what's it like?" Nate was studying her curiously.<p>

Blair crossed her legs. They were sat in his luxurious bedroom in Brooklyn, the carpet rich underneath her. It had taken Nate's nanny two hours to scrub her clean - even after the water the guards had dunked over her back in Manhattan - and an hour to comb the tangles out of her hair. She wore a stiff, pure white dress. Nate thought that she looked like a little china doll.

Blair had never seen houses so complete, furniture so clean. Heating. Hot milk. She had to be the best looked after pet in the whole of New York. She'd spent the entire week biding her time. The bridge was heavily guarded and getting back into Brooklyn wouldn't be easy. But she would get back. Back to him. She would save him from Jack.

She'd soon worked out that Nate was her best hope. He'd been troubled since his father had gone missing a few weeks ago, and his grandfather had been struggling to keep him happy. Keep him quiet. The trip into Manhattan had just been to appease him. So all Blair needed to do was convince him he wanted to go back.

She told him now of absolute freedom, of wild nights scampering across rooftops and adventures. His blue eyes shone. She turned her miserable life into the most beautiful picture for him. Nate was gullible and eager for more.

"You'd finally be free of your grandfather," she whispered to him.

Nate's brow furrowed. "I love my grandfather."

"He's planned out your whole life for you. Is that really what you want?"

Those eyes clouded with confusion. The seeds were already starting to take root as he started to question her further. They were interupted, however, by the call for tea. They actually had meal times in this house. Assigned times for eating.

Blair smiled at Nate as she sat across from him at the table. She knew his nanny felt sorry for her. His mother was clueless enough to think of her as a pretty little thing - she'd always wanted a daughter. Blair played meek and submissive well; playing dead was one of the best tactics for survival.

William van der Bilt's voice sounded from his study, clearly showing his guest out. Blair always paid attention to William - he was the one person who still thought she was a threat. The study doors opened and Blair glanced over.

She froze.

The man being led out paused too as he stared at her. He wore a grin and an expensive suit. Stiffer and cleaner than she'd ever seen him.

She'd leapt to her feet before she could think about what she was doing, playing dead forgotten as she faced the man. "Where is he?"

Jack gazed down at her. "Well, well. Look who it is."

William had come out too, glancing between them. "What's going on, Jack? You know this girl?"

Jack just shrugged. "Her and her little friend tried to attack me on my trip. I'm surprised you let her in your house - with your grandson, too?"

The old man's gaze darkened.

"That's a lie," Nate protested. He didn't understand what was going on. "She hasn't done anything wrong since she's been here." He turned to his nanny, his mother. "Has she?"

The women shook their heads. William watched their reaction with a raised eyebrow; his family were obviously taken with the little girl. More than he'd realised.

Blair ignored all of them. She didn't care that Jack was lying to these stupid people - she cared about one thing and one thing only. "Where's Chuck?" she hissed.

Jack paused for a moment. "I'm sorry, Blair. He thought you'd abandoned him. When he couldn't find you-"

"He knows I'd never abandon him." She cut him off. "Where is he?"

"I was taking him back with me," Jack sighed. "Poor kid was heartbroken. Those men showed up again - I tried to get him out." She realised then that the side of his face was all bruised. "But I wasn't fast enough." His voice caught a little. "I tried, Blair. I really tried."

Blair stared at him.

"He's dead," Jack murmured at last. "I'm sorry."

"You're lying." He couldn't be dead. He _couldn't. _

"I wish I could say I was. You know I wouldn't leave without him."

Blair felt all the blood drain from her face. He couldn't be dead. He couldn't be gone. He was waiting for her - he _had _to be waiting for her. They always found each other. He couldn't leave her. He couldn't leave her here.

Jack released a breath. "I really am sorry."

Blair was silent as something roared in her ears, no longer seeing or hearing any of them. She was too late. She hadn't been able to save him. She was alone, she realised. She was completely, utterly alone.

* * *

><p>Chuck had chased the girl through the streets for the past hour. Chased her because she wore the faded red shirt that he knew as well as he knew the dark hair and brown eyes that accompanied it. Blair's shirt. He finally grabbed her - she was bigger than Blair, hair a dirty blonde.<p>

His hands ripped at the material as he brought his face close to hers, voice stuck in his throat. "Where did you get that from?"

The girl looked at him in fear. "Lemme go-"

"That's not your shirt! Where's it from?"

She spat in his face. "I got it off a body, didn't I? She didn't need it any more."

Chuck's hands were marking the girl's arms. "You're lying."

"Fucking not! Lemme go. I've gotta brother, and he's got a knife. He'll be here any second." He knew she had no brother and he shoved her away.

A body.

She couldn't have done.

A body.

He'd spent the past week hunting the streets like a madman, refusing to stop for food or even sleep. She had to be here. She couldn't be dead. He couldn't have lost her.

A body.

His fists uncurled, slowly.

"Chuck?" Jack was standing behind him. The man had left him to his search, and now he was back. Of course he was. "I'm sorry."

Chuck said nothing.

She was gone.

Jack placed an arm around his shoulders. "Come on. Let's get you out of here." Chuck shrugged off the arm, hard. "Where else have you got to go?" Jack sighed.

Nowhere.

* * *

><p><strong>AN - So don't kill me for the bleakness of this chapter? What Jack's up to and who he works for will become clearer next chapter, as will the worlds Chuck and Blair have now entered. Thank you so much for all your reviews! Please please leave feedback because I'm nervous about writing this and finding out what works? Pretty please? :) I would appreciate it so much! **


	5. Chapter 5

_Eight years later_

* * *

><p>"Have I told you how much I love you?"<p>

Blair curled against the silk sheets, under the warm body above her as she smiled up into his blue eyes. Her dark hair spilled over the pillow, glossy and perfectly curled, her light skin moisturised and flawless. A tanned hand slipped over narrow waist. She closed her eyes for a moment, running her small fingers through brown blond hair as she placed a kiss on his lips.

"Mmm."

Only several hundred times, over and over each time he climaxed.

"I should probably go," he sighed. "Grandfather's expecting that speech." He pulled a face as he said it.

Blair's eyes darkened beneath her lashes as she slid a tentative hand up his bare chest. "You're so sexy when you're powerful," she whispered.

His reluctance vanished as he grinned. "And you're sexy all the time." He leaned down to kiss her again - she giggled and pushed at his chest.

"Tripp. You're going to be late."

"So?" he groaned, reaching for her again.

"But," she protested, "If anyone catches us..." She knew those words were the only ones needed to increase his lust. He'd have a spring in his step all the way to the town hall. "Go," she murmured playfully. "I want to watch you on that podium."

He grinned again and got to his feet, reaching for his shirt. She smiled at him until he was gone. Then the smile disappeared. She stood, face impassive. Slipped on her dress, straightened her hair and adjusted her lipgloss. The years had taught her the art of make-up in seconds.

She slid out of the room and down the stairs, pausing outside the study doors. William was inside at his desk. He spared her the briefest of glances.

"He's giving the speech."

William nodded. "Good girl."

She left.

* * *

><p>"Really, Chuck?" Jack shook his head as he gazed down at his nephew. The young man's dark hair was slicked back, his lithe powerful frame stretched against the mahogany chair. Two half-dressed girls scuttled out as Chuck watched, expressionless. He took a slow sip from his glass as he regarded his uncle back.<p>

"I'm sorry. Were they yours?"

Jack rolled his eyes. Forget the girls - Chuck was in his chair, drinking his scotch. "Did you do what I asked or not?"

"He's dead."

Jack nodded, satisfied. "Good boy."

Chuck ignored him and climbed to his feet. He downed the scotch in one. "I expect reward."

"You'll get it as soon as I see results," Jack sneered back. "Arlo Abrams might be dead, but what about Rufus Humphrey?"

"He's next."

Chuck walked out without a backwards glance.

* * *

><p>The sun shone on Brooklyn. Just a short journey over a bridge, but the streets were paved and clean and the buildings all intact - if not as impressive as Manhattan's had once been.<p>

Blair was shown to her reserved seat when she reached the town hall. She had to make sure Tripp's speech went well. Her lip curled in displeasure as she noted Dan Humphrey in the seat next to hers.

The original residents of Brooklyn had profited when Manhattan's old families had fled to them all those years ago - it gave them the right, now, to consider themselves in the same class. Noveau-riche and obnoxious with it. And of all the obnoxious Brooklynites, Dan Humphrey was the worst.

Dan Humphrey was also the person who hated Blair the most, disliked her because she was more at home in this world than he'd ever be and she didn't even have a family. She was cleverer than him, faster than him, and ten times more ruthless - and she'd climbed higher than he could ever hope to achieve. He was one of the few people who knew she had William van der Bilt, the most powerful man in Brooklyn, behind her.

"You're ten minutes late," Dan pointed out sulkily as she sat down. "The door shouldn't even have let you in."

She folded her hands, serene, on her lap. She didn't bother looking at him. "I was talking to Mayor Rhodes."

Ceceila Rhodes had a particular soft spot for her; she liked all ambitious girls. She was also Manhattan born and didn't like the Brooklynites any more than Blair did. Which Blair knew Dan Humphrey deeply resented.

Sure enough, he scowled now.

Tripp was stepping up to speak - she saw him pause as his eyes sought hers. He grinned. She arranged her face in a perfect smile back. The interaction wasn't lost on Dan.

"You should be ashamed," he muttered irritably. "Tripp's fiancee is two seats away."

Blair smiled over at Maureen too. On the contrary - Tripp's political career affected Maureen the most. Blair knew the woman wouldn't blink an eye at adultery if it meant Tripp did what he was supposed to. But she knew Dan Humphrey liked to think that his _morals_ meant something. Something that he could use to judge other people to cover up just how much he disliked being judged himself.

And Blair did judge him. He was pathetic.

"Where's your troll friend today?" she enquired now. She'd prefer to know that Vanessa wasn't showing up at all.

"Our fathers are coming home," Dan snapped. "You know how some of us actually have parents we care about?"

Blair smiled pleasantly. "_Sure_."

She got to her feet to applaud with the rest of the crowd and made a note that she'd have to perfect Tripp's closing statement for next time.

* * *

><p>Rufus Humphrey was an easy target. Any Brooklynite was. Chuck slid away his gun once the job was finished. He didn't come up into the city any more. Just to get the targets - then he went underground again.<p>

If he'd realised all those years ago that the place Jack was going to take him to had been under his feet the whole time - the old New York subway - he'd have scoffed. But the Underground was as different from the ruins of Manhattan as a place could be. The cavernous chambers were stocked with luxury goods, the people well-trained and well-armed. Jack had been putting it mildly when he'd said Chuck would have a warm bed and food. It made Chuck wonder, as the years passed, how the rabble above had ever survived in the first place.

The people here had plans. They'd been part of the original uprising against the old families, but they'd been driven underground while the families still had enough power to try to suppress them. In the early days when those families still thought they had a chance. The people underground, though, had been rich and resourceful enough to build their own community while everything above them went to shit.

And now their goal was simple.

Eradicate the familes.

Reclaim New York.

And since Chuck was one of the best killers they had, he was perfect for the job. He killed exactly who Jack told him to. The fact that he was their leader's nephew meant nothing to them - status was given only to the most deadly. What set Chuck apart was that he was also the most manipulative. Power. He wanted power. Power meant no one could hurt you and you depended on no one.

Chuck didn't plan on stopping till that was true.

* * *

><p>Blair zipped up her perfect red dress as she studied her reflection in the mirror. It wasn't just the Abrams and Humphrey men (if you could call them that) who were due back today - Nate was too. William had been forced to let him go on the latest expedition into Manhattan because he was getting more and more restless in Brooklyn.<p>

Blair's job once he got back was to distract him again. Quell those thoughts of rebellion just like she'd done with Tripp. But Tripp was easier than Nate. Nate still seemed to think of her as a little girl - he claimed he cared about her too much to do anything more.

Blair stroked the sleek fabric of the dress over her hips, angling her head so that her silky curls brushed the smooth line of her cheek.

That was going to change tonight.

* * *

><p>When Chuck got back, Jack was already deep in conversation with Russell and Damien. He could hear their laughter as they shared round the scotch, sprawled on leather chairs. He didn't bother to greet either of the other men as he entered.<p>

"It's done."

Jack glanced at him. "That was quick."

"It wasn't hard," Chuck sneered back.

Damien smirked over at him. Russell snorted into his drink.

"But we've got big news," Jack announced. He regarded his nephew. "Did you happen to notice a blond boy while you were getting rid of Humphrey and Abrams?"

"No," Chuck responded shortly.

Jack's grin widened. "Exactly. But we found out today there was supposed to be. And can you guess who the boy is?"

"William van der Bilt's grandson," Damien cut in, gleeful.

Chuck simply arched a brow. He ignored Damien. "So he's disappeared."

"Somewhere in the city," Russell murmured. "Probably alone."

"So he'll be easy." Chuck sounded bored. They could get anyone to pick off a clueless boy wandering the streets.

"If we wanted to kill him," Jack agreed, "Yes." His eyes gleamed. "But I've got a better idea."

"Ransom?" Chuck sighed.

Jack just laughed. "No. Better." He leaned forwards to clap his nephew on the shoulder. "We need you for this."

"We want to corrupt him," Russell sounded content. "Get him on our side."

"Please," Chuck scoffed. "A van der Bilt?"

But Jack raised a finger. "Rumour has it, an unhappy van der Bilt. He's run away from home. He'll be all alone. Bitter. Resentful. And looking for guidance."

"Then we send him back in Brooklyn," Chuck drawled, "As a double agent?"

"William will never see it coming," Russell murmured in response. "An attack from the inside. It's perfect."

"What do you say, nephew?" Jack grinned at him, a hard light in his eyes. "Think you can do it?"

Chuck drained the rest of his scotch. "I'll leave tonight." He wanted this to be as quick as possible. Into the city and out.

He climbed to his feet as his uncle gave him a nod. "Take Damien."

Chuck didn't spare the guy a glance. "No."

Jack's gaze narrowed for a second. "He's going with you. We can't take any chances on this one."

Chuck rolled his eyes and stalked out.

* * *

><p>Blair knew something was wrong as soon as she entered William's study. She could hear Anne crying in the next room.<p>

William regarded her seductive red dress coldly. "He sent a note with bodyguards. He's decided to stay in the city. Arlo and Rufus are dead."

"Does he know that?"

"I would assume not. Apparently he ran away as soon as they got to Manhattan." Blair rolled her eyes after a moment. Of course he had. Stupid, stupid Nate. "I want you to go after him," William said brusquely.

Blair stared at him for a moment. "You want meto go into the city?" Her lip twisted.

The man fixed her with a flat look. "Who better?" he responded. "Just bring him back here and put a stop to all this." He went to go back to his paperwork and then paused. "Dan Humphrey is kicking up a fuss over his father, wants it investigated. I want you to take him with you." Blair opened her mouth to refuse. "And I'd appreciate it if he didn't come back."

Blair closed her mouth. "Done."

"You can leave tomorrow morning."

But Blair was already on her way out. "I'll leave tonight." The sooner she got Nate, the sooner she got this over and done with.

* * *

><p>Chuck picked his way through the network of tunnels with ease, hoisting his bag on his back. The escalators that had used to carry subway passengers to the surface were now fortified with barbed wire and guards carrying machine guns. If anyone from above somehow discovered the concealed entrance, they'd be killed in seconds.<p>

Chuck didn't need to bother flashing them his card - they knew who he was. Damien jumped up the metal stairs behind him. Chuck paused at the exit to wind the piece of dark cloth around his face as Damien did the same, leaving just a slit for their eyes. The smog in the city had got worse over the past couple of years - rumour had it some kind of factory must have exploded - and inhaling too much of it could be toxic.

Chuck checked the knife in his boot before holstering the cold, familiar weight of his gun. The night air was bitter, blending his dark clothes till he was hardly visible. He slipped out of the old subyway station and onto the street. Broken buildings loomed above him.

He was ready.

* * *

><p>The guards at the bridge waved Blair through, Dan at her heels. She ignored him. The metal structure of the bridge towered over her as she moved across, Brooklyn's lights falling behind. She paused at the threshold of the city.<p>

In the distance ahead, the remnants of sky-scrapers plunged dark and silent into the night sky. Her red dress was gone, replaced with a tight, dark jacket and boots, black leather pants. Her curls were bound in a sleek braid. She fingered the cool metal of the pistol she'd never told William she'd stolen - though she suspected he knew.

"You need to cover your face," Dan instructed from behind her.

She rolled her eyes. The smog wouldn't affect them till they got into the streets themselves. She could smell it, from here. Not the smog. The dirt and the metal and the broken stones. The cold wind that howled only through the empty streets in front of her.

She bound the cloth over her head.

She was ready.

* * *

><p><strong>AN - Wow, thank you so so much for all your reviews! I'm so glad you think this is working (well, so far heh). I'm a bit worried this chapter may change that, since the whole dynamic and their characters seem to have changed...hopefully it will make sense? Sorry, no CB interaction yet - but it's coming. I just had to set the scene. I suddenly realised that like all my fics have CB being separated and then reuniting a few years later - sorry for this lack of originality! **

**Thanks again for taking the time to leave such wonderful feedback, I'm seriously grateful :) **


	6. Chapter 6

Carter had originally planned to kill the Brooklynite and take his clothes. They'd probably fetch a good price. He'd been perched on the ledge of a building, brick at the ready, as he watched the young man moving around. It had been Serena who'd grabbed his arm and begged him not to – and much to Carter's irritation, in that time the boy had passed out of range.

Serena was soft.

She'd devoted most of her life to caring for her sick little brother while Georgina did all the killing and stealing. Carter had only known Georgina, then, because he'd used to trade with her. Georgina had been tough, but there was still only one of her. She'd been gunned down in the failed attack eight years ago – the attack that was now notorious in Manhattan. People had been wary about attacking Brooklynites for a while after that.

Serena had been the one to seek Carter out after Georgina never returned. He'd followed her back to her home only because he'd been hoping to find some loot. He was sorely disappointed. The filthy nest had contained nothing but a snivelling kid. They didn't even have food – they'd run out the day before. Serena had tried to convince Carter she could help if he took them in. He'd left them. He could barely feed himself, let alone two more mouths. And the little boy didn't look like he had much longer left anyway.

Serena had lurched up two weeks later and tried to attack him. She was emaciated and her brother was dead. He'd realised then that if she wanted to be, she could be a good fighter. And at the very least, good bait. (Plus she'd told him all of this was his fault, and Carter had found himself strangely pissed off. If this was his fault, then he should at least be benefitting from it).

So he'd let her follow him. Tried to toughen her up and show her how to kill.

"Don't kill him," she'd begged for the stupid Brooklynite.

It was times like those that he rued the day he'd ever thought she was a good idea.

He'd like to say that the Brooklynite's blond hair reminded her of her brother – but the truth was, she was just soft. She didn't agree with killing the weak. Despite all his instruction, she still didn't realise that those were the best ones to kill.

He'd gone to raise the brick again and she'd tackled him. Oh, he'd been right about one thing – when she wanted to be, she was a very good fighter. She was tall and savage. The problem was getting her to want to be. And as she'd pinned him to the floor, he'd been shown again that the only time she wanted to be was when she was completely wrong. _Protecting _their ticket to a week of meals?

"We could use him," she'd tried desperately. "You're always saying you need someone else."

Yes – anyone else but her. Carter had pointed out that someone else did not mean a clueless Brooklynite who was foolish enough to wander around by himself. Hell, he was practically begging to be attacked.

He'd disappeared when Carter had next looked.

It had been Serena – Serena – who'd sought him out. But not to kill him. Oh no. Carter had caught her, trying to give him _their _food. Like they had enough to go around. Like the guy even needed it?

She'd stayed with him the whole time so that Carter couldn't get at him. Deliberately. Carter had been beside himself. The guy hadn't realised that was what she was doing, of course, but he'd still been grateful. And then Carter had started to wonder.

He must have family back in Brooklyn. What was he doing here? They must be worrying about him. More importantly, _they'd _be grateful if he was well looked after. If Carter got this guy to trust him enough, then he might be the one to benefit. He'd seen the guides that the Brooklynites used – they were useless well-fed idiots who thought they could navigate the city with a map.

Carter knew the city like the back of his hand. Hell, if he had a party of Brooklynites they wouldn't get within a mile of danger. Then some of them might actually survive their little expeditions.

He'd be paid a fortune for it.

Food, clothes...

The problem was that no Brooklynite would ever trust anyone from the city. Carter glanced over, now, to where Serena sat with boy wonder. Nate, he'd said his name was. If he could get this Nate on his side...then he might have a leg to stand on. If people from the city thought they could trust him then he'd be the richest man in Manhattan.

He smirked and headed over to them, arranging his face into what he hoped was something friendly.

Yeah. This could work well.

* * *

><p>"We should stop to eat."<p>

Blair ignored Dan and carried on moving. His awful hand grabbed her – she pushed it off in one twist. She resisted the urge to strike him as she did so, figuring it was best he didn't think her a threat. So far he actually seemed to think that she was the one who needed protecting. He'd tried to lead the way till he'd nearly blundered down an open manhole. He was still disgruntled that William van der Bilt had only dispatched a girl to help him.

"We need to keep up our strength," he insisted now. "You haven't eaten since we left."

She heard him rustling in his pack. Oh, and there they were. Waffles. Of course. Waffles were a delicacy in Brooklyn. Blair had never eaten them before that – and she couldn't say she regretted it. For some reason, of all the delicious foods she'd suddenly found at her disposal in Brooklyn, the heavy wholesome wheat and sugar of _waffles _made her stomach churn. The last time she'd had them had been when she was sat at the dining table with Nate that first week, when the study door had opened and -

She didn't eat them. They were revolting. And she wasn't going to start now.

"Did you even pack food?" Dan was asking.

She paused only long enough to give him a withering look. "I thought I'd help you. You're on a diet, right?"

He spluttered for a second, but he was already looking down to check for a paunch. She'd heard Vanessa teasing him once that he'd put on weight – their conversations really were repulsive – and he seemed to take it personally. While he wrote, at the same time, articles about how outward appearances were only for the shallow and the real superiority came from intellectual richness.

Dan Humphrey, Blair reflected as she watched him pull self-righteously at his shirt, had neither.

The only reason she hadn't killed him yet was because she'd decided she could use him with Nate. Nate would be horrified if he thought his grandfather had sent Blair into the city alone – and Humphrey's death would have far more of an impact if it happened in front of him. What better way to convince him to return to Brooklyn?

Still. The temptation to bury a bullet in that curly mop was starting to prove overwhelming.

She paused as they reached a junction, scanning the alleys that veered in front of them. She tried to force aside the sensation that overwhelmed her as she did so, the sensation that hadn't left her ever since she'd got on these streets. Eight years. Eight years, and already, automatically she was sliding close to the shadows and arching her whole body as her senses flickered. The sensation that she was twelve years old again, skulking against broken buildings and reaching for a hand next to hers without even having to look, a set of footsteps already in tune with hers and a pair of golden eyes in the darkness -

Humphrey cursed and stumbled behind her.

Her teeth were savage against her lip. "Watch where you're going," she snarled; she sensed him blink at the sudden viciousness.

"So slow down," he was grumbling.

She wasn't twelve years old any more. And coming back to this city would never change that.

* * *

><p>"Jesus, it sucks here."<p>

Damien peered around the crumbling buildings with a look of disgust. Chuck ignored him. Damien had spent most of his life underground – he might have had training, but he was useless in the city. Which wasn't the only reason Chuck hadn't wanted to take him. He was also a slimy little suck-up who grated constantly on Chuck's last nerve. He spent most of his time trying to weasel his way into Jack's favour. Chuck knew that before he'd come along, Damien had been part of the latest project. Hand-picked by Jack to train under his direct instruction.

He'd eventually been palmed off to Jack's second in command, Russell. That didn't stop him from trying to get back. But he was neither as fast nor as clever nor as good a shot as Chuck was. He _was_ fuelled by self-delusion, though. He was an obsequious shit in front of Jack, but Chuck knew he reserved a special grudge for the nephew that had taken his place and filled it better than he ever could. Chuck had been appointed captain last year – a post Damien could only dream of.

They'd spent several hours getting their bearings and carrying out initial checks, and had finally stopped and set up camp in one of the buildings.

Not the rooftop.

Damien was poking now at some sandwiches. He picked one up and ate the whole thing, scrunching the foil. "Want some, captain?" His mouth was full, the _captain _a leer as always.

"No."

Watching Damien eat turned his stomach. The foil and the crusts thrown to one side, the sandwiches unsplit -

Of course they were. Chuck turned his back to the guy and blocked out the rich smell of the meat. "Has anyone ever told you how disgusting you are?" His lip curled.

Damien just shrugged and kept eating. Chuck was just about to tell him that if he didn't chew any quieter, he'd find that damn sandwich halfway down his gullet (whole and unsplit ) when he saw something move.

They both whipped round - in the corner of the room, someone had just slipped in through the window. Silent. A kid. A girl. Probably planning on stealing some of their food. Chuck just caught a glimpse of dark hair, wide eyes in a white face as his heart leapt up into his throat and choked him – and then there was a bang, and she crumpled. Damien was re-holstering his gun.

Suddenly he found himself pinned against the wall, brutal fingers around his neck and his air supply gone.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Chuck's eyes were blacker than flint, his white face like ice. He didn't ease his grip.

For a moment, Damien was genuinely afraid he was going to be ripped to pieces. "What's your problem?" he struggled.

Chuck threw him to the floor. "Don't waste bullets, you _idiot._" He kicked him way harder than was necessary – and then he turned away, abrupt.

Damien rubbed resentfully at his bruised neck as he glowered at Chuck's figure. But he was far too scared of incurring that wrath again to say anything. Great. Just great. Jack had sent him out into the city with a madman.

* * *

><p>"I'll take first watch," Dan announced. He settled himself down with his mug like he was doing her a huge favour. "You need to sleep."<p>

(They'd always taken first watch in turns and if either of them _offered_ it was only because they were in a good mood or not tired-)

Blair just arched an eyebrow, She'd considered knocking him out, but had decided that a sleeping pill crushed in his little cup of coco was far less messy. Because there was no way that she was leaving him awake if she wanted to sleep. The fool would probably do something stupid like light a fire.

He took another sip as she didn't move.

"Sure you're not feeling sleepy?" It was little more than a sneer.

"No," Dan started to scowl. His eyelids were drooping. Blair waited till he was unconscious, rolled her eyes, and settled herself down for a long night. They'd be up at the crack of dawn. She hoped Humphrey had a headache. Actually, she didn't – he probably wouldn't shut up about it and then she might end up killing him out of sheer annoyance.

She was used, now, to being engulfed in thick duvets and fluffy pillows, silk pyjamas. It was just because she was sleeping on the ground again. Hard and cold underneath her as she curled into a ball and forced her mind to go blank and stop moving for a body that wasn't there to make it softer or warmer.

She needed to get out of here before she lost her mind altogether.

* * *

><p>"The Empire State building," Carter said grandly. "One of the most haunted buildings in Manhattan. Luckily, it's daylight now so we'll be safe. But at night - at night you can hear the ghosts of the people who died in the lightning storm."<p>

He would make a great guide. No doubt about it.

Serena gave him a funny look. He was the one who'd always told her those stories were crap. "It's not really haunted," she told Nate. "It's actually a good place to hide because everyone thinks it is." Nate smiled at her and her heart leapt again. No one had _smiled _at her in years. She grinned back and seized his hand. "Come on."

Carter repressed an eye-roll and followed them. Actually, it probably was a pretty good place to hide for a bit. This dolt was far too much of a target to everyone else. And no prize was worth Carter getting caught in any crossfire.

Empire State building it was.

* * *

><p>It was wearing on for afternoon, sun still blocked by the muggy sky and the streets cast in shadow.<p>

Chuck had been aware for a while that there was someone following them. Or if not following, then taking the same route. Whoever they were, they were good. He'd seen a flash – one figure ahead, then nothing. Silent.

He motioned now for Damien to stop. "Wait here."

"Where are you going?" Damien demanded; Chuck silenced him with a glance. Whoever the person was, they wouldn't be alive for much longer.

* * *

><p>"Where do you keep disappearing to?" Dan asked in annoyance as Blair slipped back to him, round the corner of the building.<p>

She just gave him a nasty look. She'd spotted the two figures ahead a while back. She would normally have avoided them, but they kept taking every street she wanted to. It was highly frustrating. She'd planned on stopping off at all the biggest buildings first, the most intact and the most likely to be sheltering Nate. She seriously hoped it wouldn't be his corpse she found, anyway – she might as well not bother going back to Brooklyn if that was the case.

"I knew we should have taken a guide," Dan sighed. He rubbed at his curly hair. "And we're not getting any closer to finding my dad."

They were, actually. The closer they got to Nate, the closer Humphrey got to the end of his life. Death was as close to his father as he _could_ get. She satisfied herself with that thought as she ignored him, peering round the building.

Damnit. There was just one figure now. Where had the other one got to? "Don't move," she snapped to Humphrey. She disappeared again before he could protest.

She skirted across the street, pressing herself against the shadows as she neared, unseen, the figure now standing alone. Where was his friend? Perhaps she should pick him off now while she had the chance. But the fact that she couldn't see the other one was making her uneasy. Where _was _he?

* * *

><p>Dan had had about enough of her. He'd always known she was a selfish, conceited liar – but he hadn't realised she was also insane. She clearly had no idea how to survive out here. You weren't supposed to split up, Dan was sure of it. She'd no doubt landed herself in trouble now. Well, he thought grimly, then he'd save her. She would have to be grateful to him then. And maybe she'd drop this notion that she could handle herself out here.<p>

He needed to find his father - this city was an awful place. With that thought in mind, he strode round the building.

"B? B!"

Damien paused as he heard the voice. What the hell? He realised there was a guy approaching, and he couldn't believe his stupidity. Was he _trying _to get killed? Well, Damien was all to happy to oblige. He was about to take aim when he remembered that crazy reaction the last time he'd fired a shot. He pulled a face. Damn Chuck. He hated him – he really did. His neck still hurt.

Fine.

He'd knife this moron instead, then no bullets would be wasted. Should be easy enough.

* * *

><p>Blair pressed her lips together, furious, as she saw Dan bumble right into danger. The cretin. She was tempted to just let the guy kill him – he was proving more trouble than he was worth. But since she needed to kill the guy anyway, she'd have to stick to the plan of keeping Humphrey along for Nate.<p>

She aimed her gun.

And then something cold pressed against the side of her neck as an arm came around her, a hard chest trapping her in place. She went very still.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you."

Now she knew where the other figure had gone.

* * *

><p><strong>AN - ****Oops. I killed Eric off again, I know. I promise this isn't deliberate, I love his character! He just doesn't really fit in this world? And Serena needed something to make her snap? He's in a better place now?**

**But I couldn't not include Carter...**

**Don't hate me for teasing the CB interaction? **

**Thank you so so much for all your reviews, I promise I don't normally beg for them but they've been even more appreciated than normal (if possible?) for this particular fic! **


	7. Chapter 7

Chuck held her fast.

"Put the gun down."

He'd watched her prowl round the building as her foolish companion rushed up to Damien. Her face was hidden, of course, but she was too slight to be anything other than a woman. As he'd watched, he'd raised his gun ready to kill her there and then. And then something had stopped him, made him freeze just a split second. Something about the way she'd flattened herself against the wall -

Then she was out of range and he'd cursed, furious with himself. What was _wrong _with him? He was letting it take him over. First the girl Damien had shot, the stupid sandwich - he kept seeing spectres, all the time. It was pathetic. He'd shaken his head to dislodge them. He didn't have time for this.

He'd hoisted his gun again and moved in to take a second shot. Then, as he'd studied her, something had occurred to him. He'd assumed before he'd seen her properly that she was a Manhattanite - a thief or part of a gang, perhaps - but looking at her, she was nowhere near ragged enough. So he'd held fire.

And as he held her now, assessing the expensive material of her jacket, he reflected that she was dressed like she was from Brooklyn. But Chuck had seen Brooklynites - they blundered through the city rather like her companion had. None of them were this good. (Which made him wonder if the other guy was her companion at all. It seemed improbable). So she had to be from the Underground. Who was she? And why was she following them?

He pushed his own weapon a little closer to her pusle point. He'd seen how quickly she moved - he wasn't letting her go for a second.

"What division are you from?" he murmured in her ear.

He swore he felt her tremble, for a moment, against him. Was she playing weak? She said nothing in any case. He gripped her a bit tighter.

"Answer me. Or I'll shoot." It was, after all, the only thing keeping her alive at the moment. If she _was _from the Underground, then he needed to know who'd sent her and why. The gun was hard against the soft hollow of her throat. He felt her shift, just a fraction, her waist turning in his grip - and he realised too late that her hand had slipped down and there was suddenly something sharp in between his legs. A knife. Poised at the most sensitive part. The pain made his breath hiss; she took the advantage to kick back with her foot, colliding with his knee cap, and shoved the gun away as she twisted free.

Then she was gone.

He leapt straight after her.

He just had time to see her take aim at Damien - she was running as she did so, and still the shot hit his leg, making him scream in pain - before she'd disappeared into a building. Chuck didn't bother aiming at the other guy himself. Whether or not he was her companion, he was hardly a threat and Chuck only wanted to catch her now. No way was he letting someone that dangerous live.

He pounded up the stairs after her. He saw a dark braid whip ahead as she vanished round a corner. They kept going, right the way to the top. She didn't even pause before the roof access was gone in one kick and she'd slipped out onto the roof itself.

She was good.

But now she had nowhere to go, and there were two guns pointing at each other. The wind howled this high up, the air finally free of smog as they faced off. Chuck pulled the cloth covering his face a little tighter.

"Drop your weapon," he murmured, "And maybe I'll let you live."

She let out a quiet laugh, and it was muffled by the fabric that showed him just her eyes. He realised with a start that they were brown and forced it away. For God's sake. His own mind wasn't safe in this city, taunting him at every turn because every street and every rooftop was so saturated with _her _that he was starting to drown. Suffocating in memories that were never coming back.

He _hated _this city.

He cocked his gun. The woman, whoever she was, did the same. "So now we both die?" she enquired. It was the first time he'd heard her voice. She had the clipped accent of a Brooklynite, and his eyes narrowed. She couldn't be from the Underground. But who in Brooklyn was that well-trained?

"What are you doing so far from home?" he asked instead, gun still aimed. Something told him he wouldn't get an answer but he was curious. And, actually, he needed to know. If Brooklynites were training people -

"I could ask you the same thing," she parried back archly. "Don't you have a tunnel to crawl into?"

He stilled as he regarded her. So what Jack had suspected was true. Brooklynites were aware of their presence. The thought of how pissed off his uncle would be was satisfying, but the situation was hardly ideal. "How do you know this isn't my home?" he drawled back.

She snorted, those eyes flickering over him. "You're a little well-dressed to be from here, don't you think?"

His lip curled. "So Brooklyn sent you to follow me. Not doing a very good job, are you?"

"Maybe I just wanted your jacket." Her voice was impassive, but he could've sworn she smirked under that material. Hard. "It might look better on me than on your dead body."

"Watching you try could be amusing," he rejoined as he raised the gun. "But I have things to do, and you're in my way."

"I agree," she purred, tilting her head. "You'll probably be easier to kill when your back's turned anyway." She slipped backwards, never lowering her own gun as there was a pause. "I'll be seeing you." She turned and jumped off the ledge.

And as he glanced down the now empty drop with a curse, he found himself hoping he _would_ be seeing her. Killing her was going to give him great satisfaction.

* * *

><p>Dan was not happy when Blair rejoined him. He'd at least had the sense to run from Damien, and was now hiding down some steps in what had once been the doorway to a vestibule.<p>

"Where did you go?" he asked angrily. "I thought you'd been killed."

Blair rolled her eyes. "If only," she sighed. "Then I wouldn't have to put up with your incessant whining."

Dan glared at her. "That's not funny. B, you need to realise that this place is dangerous!"

It was going to become a lot more dangerous for a certain Humphrey if he didn't shut up. It had unsettled her; unsettled her that someone had been able to sneak up and get so close so easily. She was off her game. That arm wrapped around her. And his voice had unsettled her too, stirred something familiar -

Ghosts. She was seeing ghosts everywhere. She'd got too accustomed to the Brooklyn accent, and when the guy had spoken it had reminded her of _him. _She had to stop. Get in, get Nate, and get out. And then she was never coming back to this city again. Her thoughts returned to the guy. She'd only been guessing when she'd mentioned the tunnel - he clearly wasn't from Manhattan, and she'd heard rumours of the people in the old subway. Rumours that she knew far more about than she was supposed to, thanks to her close watch on William. He'd been surveying them for a while now.

Whoever the guy was, he was good. She could still feel that gun against her neck. She was going to enjoy killing him, she decided.

* * *

><p>"Can you slow down?" Damien snarled through gritted teeth. "I swear this thing's going septic."<p>

Chuck ignored him. If the idiot hadn't paid attention during first aid - which he hadn't, of course, being far more obsessed with learning how to shoot better than Chuck - then more fool him. Chuck wouldn't have slowed down even if they hadn't just (finally) got a lead. A blond Brooklynite had been spotted in the area. Damien was smug because he'd got the information himself. There was one gang here that the Underground occasionally traded with - a gang that Chuck tended to ignore. If there was one thing that he'd held onto from his childhood, it was that gangs weren't to be trusted.

But Damien had managed to use the connection now to get news, and he wasn't shutting up about it any time soon. He'd got the information and Chuck hadn't. Chuck could care less - the sooner they got to this Nathaniel, the sooner he got out of here.

"You know, _captain,_" Damien grumbled bitterly, "You could help. I know you wasted freakish amounts of time on learning this stuff." Chuck carried on walking as the other guy stumbled and swore. "What was the point, if you're not even going to put it into practice?"

At that Chuck spared him a glance. "I learnt first aid for myself," his voice was little more than a sneer. "Why would I waste time learning how to give it to someone else?" (Cleaning bullet wounds, useless and too late). His eyes flickered to Damien's leg for a moment. "But now that I think about it, that leg does look infected." Damien's eyes shot down too. He _knew_ it. "And since you did me favour," Chuck drawled, "Getting that tip, I guess I could help you this once." Ha. Damien smirked a bit. "Do you have a knife?"

The smirk turned into a frown. A knife? "Why?"

Chuck just arched an eyebrow. "To amputate it, obviously."

There was a long pause while Damien tried not to choke. "I'll manage," he hissed at last. He glowered at Chuck, face still grey, as the other guy carried on. He hated him. He really did.

* * *

><p>The kid shifted, scratching nervously at his filthy hair. "I don't want trouble."<p>

"No trouble," Blair snapped. "Just tell me if you saw him come this way." Hardness the kid could deal with - if she started being nice to him then he'd scarper, sure there was a trap.

She could feel Dan's judgement behind her. Manipulating a little boy. He was judging her from a distance, of course; emaciated limbs made him nervous. If she mocked his obvious fear he'd no doubt tell her he wanted no part in threatening an innocent. This particular innocent could probably kill Dan Humphrey in seconds if given the chance.

It had taken her long enough to find even this source. Mainly because she also had to put so much effort into keeping an eye out for that guy; the thought of him sneaking up on her again -

"There was a man," the boy mumbled. "He looked rich. And another man from here, and a girl. Three of them."

Three of them? Blair wasn't sure if that was a good development or not. On the one hand, if these people hadn't killed Nate yet then they wanted him for something, and might be more inclined to make sure he stayed alive. For now. On the other - more people. That had not been part of the plan. And she really didn't need any more complications.

"Which way did they go?" she demanded.

The kid shrugged. Blair's eyes narrowed as her fingers ran over her gun. She knew the kid could see. He scowled and pointed. "They were talking about the Empire State."

Blair didn't freeze. She didn't have to fight to shove any feeling or thought away. It was a building and nothing more. (Why _there_, of all places in Manhattan?) It was a step closer to her target, and that was all that mattered.

"Get out of here," she told the kid coldly. She turned her back as she heard him lunge at something. She didn't look back until a moment after Dan had yelled in outrage and the kid was dashing triumphantly through the streets with his pack.

"Stop him!" Dan cried.

Blair cocked her head. She idly fingered the gun again - the gun that Humphrey still hadn't noticed she had. He'd probably assumed his escape earlier was nothing more than luck. Or that the guy about to kill him had ended up with a bleeding leg thanks to something _he'd _done. "Me?" she enquired.

The kid was long gone now. (His hair was mousy and his eyes were grey and he was taller and ganglier than _he _had ever been - and still something about the way he'd squatted on his haunches, something about that hungry gleam in his eye that no one in Brooklyn had-)

"We just lost all the food!"

"Oh no." Blair pulled a sweet, sympathetic face. "Not the the waffles too?"

* * *

><p>"Dangerous?" Carter glanced at Nate. "Well, sure. But that's what makes this place so exciting." The guy was lapping it up. Carter was <em>born <em>for this.

"It's not that dangerous," Serena cut in hastily. "I mean, we do ok." She gave Nate a smile. She didn't want him to worry – but also, she didn't want him to leave. Not yet. She liked the way she felt when he smiled back at her too much. Couldn't he just stay here with them? Carter could look after him. She could look after him. They could make sure they stayed out of danger.

Nate, for his part, couldn't help noticing that tangle of blonde hair or the way her smile lit up her dirty face. He'd never seen anyone so full of life, he realised. And Carter was wild and swaggering, a strange edge of bravado and independence that Nate could only admire. Just being with them made Nate feel like he could finally, finally taste freedom.

* * *

><p>Blair was silent as she moved up the steps. Cracked marble. The echoing foyer. She forced herself to listen only for the voices ahead. She crouched in the shadows once she reached the second floor of the building, listening to the room within. She could hear Nate. And, sure enough, two other voices. A guy and a girl that were definitely from this city.<p>

She considered her options. She needed to talk to Nate by himself. If she went in now and the pair of Manhattanites felt threatened, they might well kill him right there. She needed to get him alone and get him away. So she needed a distraction.

Creeping in the shadows and diverting people from the prize they - _she_ wanted. She wanted. Because it was just her. This building didn't mean anything. Slipping back into old habits didn't mean anything.

She hoped she was as good at this as she (they) she used to be.

It was all making her feel so sick, the memories rammed down her throat and warping this damn building into something she couldn't seem to get out of. Something she'd all but forgotten. She _had_ forgotten. It was buried and gone. At the end of the day she was going back to Brooklyn, and this city would be behind her once and for all.

This building meant nothing.

* * *

><p>Chuck grit his teeth furiously as they reached the end of the street. The trail was cold. There was no sign of the Brooklynite anywhere – he should've gone with his instinct. Never trust a gang, and never rely on <em>Damien. <em>

"You must've taken a wrong turning," Damien was insisting now.

Except Chuck knew this particular area like the back of his hand, long forgotten and never lost. He could see the Empire State building loom ahead. "Really?" he snarled. "Sure it's not just that you're a useless piece of shit?" He needed to get _out. _He needed to get this over with.

"Hey-"

"Shut up," Chuck snapped suddenly. He'd heard something. He yanked Damien back against the stone wall of an apartment block, listening.

It was a Brooklynite – just not the Brooklynite he wanted. He recognised the lean male frame from earlier, the huffing as he blundered about all over the place. But if that was the guy, then where was she? Chuck had kept his eyes peeled for her ever since their confrontation, but so far nothing. She was out there now without a doubt.

Damien had gone a bit pale at his side. His leg was killing him and he didn't fancy getting shot again.

They watched as the guy sat down on the remains of a wall, crossing his arms. Chuck didn't need to see his face to know he was pissed. Jesus, was he _muttering _to himself?

"...Just wait here, sure, while she skips off into danger again...crazy...never going to find my dad..."

Chuck scanned the buildings. The last thing he needed was her skipping back from 'danger' and that knife ending up at his throat. _You'll probably be easier to kill when your back's turned anyway. _He glanced behind him. He wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating her again.

But something told him she wasn't here. He watched the guy again. He was shifting on the wall, now, and Chuck realised then that his gaze kept turning to to look at something. Chuck noticed because it was exactly the direction he refused to let his own gaze stray.

Slowly, he looked up. The jagged top of the Empire State building was hidden in fog, its shadow silent. Always there. His grip tightened on his gun.

Fine.

If she was in there – and he was sure that she was – then he'd catch her off guard and get rid of her. Then he could focus on finding the Brooklynite he actually needed.

"Keep an eye on him," he murmured to Damien as he peeled himself off from the side of the building. "Don't let him out of your sight." He figured that once the woman was dead, her companion (or whatever he was) would be pretty easy to get answers out of.

Damien, however, turned on him. "Where the hell are you going?" There was an edge of panic to his voice.

"Can you not carry out a simple order?" Chuck growled in irritation. "Stay here and _watch _him."

"You can't leave me! What if-"

Chuck's eyes slanted at him. "What if what?"

"What if that bitch comes back?" Damien hissed.

Chuck gave him a cool look. "Then you can put _your _training into practice, can't you? Better hope you get to your gun before she does." And with that, he disappeared.

Damien gulped and squeezed his gun a little tighter. He really, really hated Chuck.

* * *

><p>Carter stilled at the crash below. There was someone in the foyer. He was already on his feet, reaching for the nearest weapon as Nate asked what was going on.<p>

"Nothing I can't handle," Carter assured him. And if it was, then Carter would be the first to escape. Sorry Nate. "You stay here," he smiled.

But Serena had got up too, those normally wide blue eyes narrowed. She'd got to know Carter well enough to know that he'd be out the window in a flash if there was a real threat downstairs. Leaving whoever it was to come straight up here. Straight to Nate. Well, she decided, she wasn't going to let that happen. She had to get Carter to realise that they needed him.

Carter glared at her, clearly signalling for her to stay – she ignored him. Oh sure, he ground his teeth. She could put her foot down when it was most annoying for him. Still, if she was going all dark Serena out of the misguided desire to protect rich boy - then she might actually be some help. So he jerked his head for her to follow and Serena flashed Nate one more quick smile, promising him it was fine, before the two of them headed for the stairs.

They moved straight past Blair, who was waiting silently behind a weathered door. Once they were gone, she tugged the fabric away from her face and shook her hair out of her braid, letting it fall in soft curls around her face. Then she slipped into the room.

Nate didn't hear her enter. He turned and let out a noise of surprise, stumbling backwards. "Wh-"

She stepped into the light so he could see her. "Shh." Her voice shook a little. "It's me."

"Blair?" He just stared for a moment; and then he moved to catch her arms in shock. Concern. "What are you _doing _here?"

She let him embrace her, buried her face in his warm chest for a moment. Then he was holding her out, peering down at her as she let herself quiver. "I had to bring you back."

He blinked. "You came here by yourself?"

She shook her head quickly. "No, I was...with Dan, but we got separated." She dropped her gaze. "I can't find him," she whispered. "It's so awful here, Nate."

He hugged her again, holding her tight as he dropped a kiss on her forehead. "You shouldn't have come."

"But I had to," she struggled. "You left!"

He gazed down at her in wonder. "Blair-"

"But we can go home now, right?"

He was nodding. "Of course," he promised, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. "We'll get you home."

She threw her arms around his neck. "Oh, Nate. I knew you'd come back!"

She felt him hesitate in her hold. Slowly, gently, he tried to prise her away. "Blair," he murmured. "I'm not coming back." His brow was creased.

She looked up at him like she didn't understand. "What?"

He shook his head. "I'm not going back there. I've had enough. I can't live in Brooklyn any more."

"But..." She blinked like she was blinking back tears. "It's your home. All your family are there." Her voice was very small. "How can you just leave?"

He released a sigh. "Blair-"

"B," she corrected swiftly - because, really, enough of that. No one called her Blair any more. It was all the rage in Brooklyn to shorten your name to its first initial - Blair had started the trend herself. _B _carried more weight than _Blair_ ever had. (The sooner they got back to Brooklyn the better).

Nate smiled fondly. "You'll always be Blair to me."

Blair managed to repress a grimace. "Please, Nate," she tried again. "I don't understand. Why can't we go home? Your mom's so worried-"

"She doesn't need to be," Nate assured her, firm. "I'm fine here." His eyes shone a little. "Better than fine, actually."

Blair studied him for a second. Damnit. This might take a little longer than she'd anticipated. "Well," she swallowed, "I'm glad you're happy?"

"I am."

Ugh.

* * *

><p>Chuck had grown in eight years. The gap that had once let two small bodies slip through hand in hand -<p>

The air inside was musty. Musty and as familiar as the cool and the dim that engulfed him as he moved further in. The lumps of marble were all untouched. The same shadows and the same pattern of cracks along the ceiling – cracks that they'd used to count, side by side, when they were too hungry to sleep.

He shook his head again. Savage. _Enough. _He was going to hunt this woman down and kill her. Then he was going to get the hell out of this mausoleum that meant _nothing _any more.

He ducked behind a pillar as he heard the footsteps on the stairs. Two sets of footsteps. Too loud to be his target, he was sure. (Two sets of footsteps coming down the stairs to investigate the foyer-)

"There's no one here." A girl's voice. The wrong voice.

"Check the door."

Chuck waited till they'd passed him before turning and slipping up the stairs they'd just descended. She had to be here somewhere. He could hear voices coming from one of the rooms. He was silent as he eased next to the frame where the door had used to be, peering round and into the room. It took him a moment to make sense of what he was seeing because -

The Brooklynite. In all his blond-haired blue-eyed glory – that couldn't be anyone other than Nathaniel Archibald. Here. Right in front of him. But before the triumph could quite surge, Chuck noticed the other figure. A girl with his back to him. Not just a girl – her. He almost hadn't recognised her because her hair was free, spilling down her slender back. For a moment, seeing how close they stood, he assumed she was about to kill the guy and he almost sprang forwards.

Then he realised that Nathaniel Archibald was cupping her face and she was murmuring that she missed him. She was all gentleness now – no wonder Chuck almost hadn't recognised her. They knew each other? Of course, she was from Brooklyn too -

He froze. Of course.

Jesus, how had he been so _slow? _She hadn't been following Chuck at all. She was from Brooklyn. Nathaniel was William van der Bilt's grandson, and he'd gone missing. How had it not occurred to Chuck that the man might send someone to retrieve him? He'd never leave him wandering Manhattan by himself.

"Nate," the girl whispered – and Chuck realised he wasn't sure how old she was any more. She still had her back to him so he couldn't see her face, but she suddenly seemed very young. Nothing like the deadly killer he'd faced on the rooftop. She was so soft now, so gentle. "I don't want to go home without you."

Too gentle, he thought as his eyes narrowed. And then fury. She was manipulating him. She'd beaten Chuck to it. And judging from the way _Nate _was swallowing now, she was well on her way to convincing him. No way was Chuck letting him go back to Brooklyn. He glared at the girl's back. Well, he couldn't kill her right now. That would hardly get Archibald on his side. So he slipped back in to the shadows.

He needed a plan.

* * *

><p><strong>AN – First of all, thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews :) Seriously, you guys are amazing! I was a bit worried this chapter was crossing into Mr and Mrs Smith territory at the beginning, but to quote Nate, 2x02...'You know it's love when you start talking like an assassin'. Also, Sofia N (sorry, I wanted to send you a message but couldn't!) - the quote at the beginning is from 'Wuthering Heights'; it's Heathcliff after Cathy dies ('be with me always, take any form, drive me mad. Only do not leave me in this abyss where I cannot find you. Oh God, it is unutterable. I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!') - it's one of my favourite quotes from the book. **

**And I promise C/B interaction proper will start next chapter...less dancing around each other with guns! Chuck has a plan, don't worry. **


	8. Chapter 8

Carter and Serena both stilled when they got back and saw the girl in the room with Nate – Carter's immediate reaction was to kill her, of course, till he noticed her expensive clothes and Nate's arm around her. He ended up having to restrain Serena. (Seriously, why could she not be this savage the rest of the time?)

"It's ok," Nate promised them. "She's with me, she's from Brooklyn too. She only came to find me."

Blair let him keep her in his hold while she sized the pair up. The blonde girl looked fairly dangerous, she decided - but it was the guy that made her freeze for a second. Because she knew him. A distant memory. He'd got older and bigger in eight years, a ragged man rather than a boy, but she knew that sharp face. Carter Baizen. They'd always used to trade with him, bringing him their spoils to swap for food or clothes; they'd had a mutual understanding. No. Not again. The city and the building and Baizen -

She saw something flicker in his eyes as he appraised her too, a slight frown. She went cold. He recognised her. He was going to - then the flicker was gone, brushed off. Of course. She wasn't that scruffy little girl any more. She knew Carter had a good memory for faces, but there was no way he'd be able to connect the dots with the Brooklynite he now saw. Even if he thought she looked familiar, he probably couldn't work out where from. Which worked fine for her. Because any time she'd seen Baizen, she'd always been with _him. _She didn't want those memories and she didn't want Baizen to recognise her.

"This is Carter and Serena," Nate was telling her as he turned to them, introducing her. "And this is-"

"B," she cut him off, swiftly – because there was no way she was helping Carter join those dots with the mention of _Blair. _He was still watching her, so she wrapped the material back around her face. If she stayed covered up then nothing could trigger his memory.

"The smog's not as bad inside," Nate assured her when he saw. He smiled at Serena – she'd told him as much. "It's ok."

Blair saw the smile and managed not to roll her eyes. Only Nate would actually think this girl was his friend. Like she wasn't going to kill him as soon as it benefitted her. Thank God Blair had showed up when she did. "I can feel it," she insisted, giving his hand a little squeeze. "Maybe my lungs are more sensitive." She let her voice tremble. "I don't think we're used to this air, Nate."

She saw Carter arch a scornful brow and was pleased. Best to reinforce the idea that she was a helpless Brooklynite.

Nate looked worried. "We need to get you back."

Serena's face fell. Back. She didn't want him to go back. "You're leaving?"

Blair smiled up at him. "Yes." She went to nestle her head on his chest. "Please."

But Nate was firm. "I'm not." The blonde brightened – of course she did, if Nate left she'd lose whatever it was she was after - "I'll take you back," he promised Blair, "But I'm staying here." He smiled at Serena again.

Blair squeezed his hand a bit tighter to drag his attention back to her. "I'm not going anywhere without you," she told him. Her eyes glistened. "I'm not leaving you, Nate."

Serena felt suddenly profoundly alone.

Nate ran his hand through his hair. "You can't stay here." He was looking at her so tenderly that it filled Serena with longing. Just to have _someone _look at her like that. Like they cared. "We need to get you home-"

Blair flung her arms around his neck to shut him up, burying her face in its crook. "No, Nate." She clung on tight; he was taken aback, she could feel it. So she let herself shake again. "I can't lose you. If you really want to stay here, then-" she raised her eyes to his, swallowing, "I'll stay with you."

"Bl-"

"No!" He'd been about to call her Blair again, she needed to stop that. Her brown eyes brimmed with tears as she held him. "I can't face Brooklyn without you," she whispered. "And if being here," she looked round the room and shivered, "Is what I have to do then I'll do it."

"Great," Carter drawled. He'd had about enough of the hysterics. Jesus. "Two of you, then." This could work out even better – if the girl thought he could be trusted, then he'd have another one to vouch for him. "Let's get dinner." (She was small, hopefully she wouldn't eat that much. Although, he realised with an internal groan, she looked fussy. He wasn't about to scrabble around the city looking for good food for her. Good food was _his _when he found it).

Nate looked down at Blair, clearly caught.

"I'm not leaving without you," she repeated.

He tried to draw her to one side. "Look, I know you don't like it here-"

"No," she mumbled. "And I don't understand why you do."

"It's not so bad." His eyes strayed to Serena and Blair repressed a noise of irritation. He cupped her face. "I don't want you to stay because of me." He searched her; "I know how much Brooklyn means to you. But it's not what I want." He lowered his voice. "I'm not going back to my grandfather."

Carter caught it anyway.

"He'd probably really worried about you," Blair pleaded.

Nate's face hardened for a moment. "Worried that he's lost one of his pawns, more like. I'm not letting him control my life any more."

Blair gulped. "And what about me?" Her eyes moved over him. "Don't I matter to you at all?"

Nate's caught her. "Of course you do."

"So why won't you come back with me?"

But he was resolute. "No." He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I can't."

"You really think you're better off in this city?" She caught the sharpness in her voice and checked herself. She dropped her gaze. "I just...I don't understand."

He tilted her chin up to him. "I think anywhere is better. Maybe if you gave this place a chance," he added, soft, "You might see the same thing." Her eyes widened as she spared all the dirt a glance. "You could stay too," he urged.

She considered for a moment – clearly she wasn't going to change his mind today. He just needed to realise how dangerous the city was. He wouldn't be quite so keen to stay then.

"I...guess I could give it a chance," she faltered at last. "For you."

There was happiness in his eyes. "Just a few days. I promise, if you still don't like it, then I'll take you back."

"Ok," she whispered. A few days should be enough time to scare him into returning home.

Nate hugged her tight, grateful.

"So..." Carter managed to keep his voice pleasant. Patient. "We're all staying, then?"

"Yeah," Nate gave Blair a little smile. Serena glanced away as that yearning filled her again. But she was over the moon that he was staying. "I'll get some food," she offered happily.

Blair grit her teeth at the warm look Nate sent in the blonde's direction. God, it was amazing he'd survived even this long. "I'll help." Nate glanced at her, surprised. But she could tell that he was pleased too.

"Thank you," he mouthed. He knew how hard Blair was to impress - but even she wouldn't be able to resist Serena. He was sure of it. He couldn't think of a better way to convince her this place was all right.

Blair just nodded back, aware that he couldn't see her smile thanks to the material. She gave Nate's hand another squeeze instead. No way was she letting the blonde get their food by herself. Nate wouldn't even think to check for poison.

* * *

><p>They were sharing round stale crackers - the girl hadn't complained, Carter noticed, so she was no doubt making a show for her boyfriend - when they heard the noise below. Blair reached instantly for her gun. Then she caught herself and reached for Nate's hand instead. "What was that?" she whispered as her other hand tightened over the barrel of the weapon.<p>

Carter rolled his eyes, already on his feet. "I'm sure it's nothing." Knowing his luck, this time it actually would be something. He slipped out of the room - but whoever it was was already on their way up the stairs.

"B? B, are you there?"

Carter stopped himself from going for the guy straight away (it was getting quite frustrating) as he heard the name. Whoever he was, he knew the girl - perhaps he was a Brooklynite too. What was this, some kind of field trip? A Brooklyn rebels' day out?

"Can I help you?" He put just enough menace in his voice to stop the guy. Just in case.

"I'm looking for my...friend. A girl. I'm worried about her, she's all by herself." The guy wore good quality clothes too - definitely not from the city - and from what Carter could make out, had thick dark hair. It was too dark to see his face properly. "She told me she was coming here to try and find this guy. She wouldn't let me come with her, but I've been waiting outside for hours. She's small," he insisted. "She can't take care of herself."

Well, any friend of hers could only benefit Carter more. "She's fine," he sighed. "Having dinner as we speak." He moved aside to let the guy come up. If he was a Brooklynite, then he'd be easy to kill if he did try anything.

As the guy levelled him, he pulled a piece of material up over his face. Carter arched an eyebrow. "The smog," the guy muttered. "It's making it hard to breathe."

Oh, he was definitely from Brooklyn.

"B," Carter called out lazily, leading the way into the room. "Your little friend is looking for you."

Blair tried not to groan. Great. Humphrey had obviously got sick of waiting. Well, at least now she could she could get down to killing him and destroying Nate's rosy image of Manhattan.

"Dan!" She went to jump to her feet like she'd been worried.

Then she saw him properly, and the cry choked in her throat.

It wasn't Dan.

His face was still covered, but she'd recognise the power in that sinuous frame anywhere. The angle of his head. It was the guy from the rooftop. The guy who'd held the gun to her neck. She fought not to whip her own gun out there and then, heart thumping as she regarded him. Nate was watching. How the hell had this guy even -

"B." At the sound of her name on his lips she froze again - _what? -_ but he was approaching her now. "Oh, thank God. There you are. I was so worried." Blair flinched back. What the hell? "I had to leave Dan downstairs," the guy explained. "He's been attacked."

Nate, meanwhile, had started. "Dan Humphrey? Is he ok?"

Just then there was a noise at the doorway and two more guys entered. Or rather, one did - the other was dragged behind. This time instinct cut in before Carter could stop it and whoever he was recived a hard punch. Carter didn't like being snuck up on.

"Ow! Jesus! I'm with them!"

Blair recognised the pair then. The guy being dragged was Dan, unconcious. And the guy who'd dragged him, now nursing a streaming nose, was the guy she'd shot in the leg.

Nate took in the scene with absolute confusion. "What the hell's going on?"

"I'm sorry," the guy from the rooftop sighed. "You must be Nate. Your girlfriend here," he nodded at Blair, "Met me and my friend a couple of days ago. She told us she was looking for you, and we said we'd help. But then we got separated - we were so worried."

Blair stared at him in absolute fury. _What? _She was just about to open her mouth to tell Nate to get away from the liar, when the guy holding Dan staggered a little.

"Are you ok?" the rooftop guy sounded concerned. "We were attacked," he explained to Nate. "My friend got shot in the leg." He glanced at Blair. She went still, eyes narrowing. Nate looked horrified as glanced at the guy's leg. Blood was, indeed, seeping through his trousers. "Some people here are insane," the guy murmured. "Violent. Dangerous." Those dark eyes rested on Blair again. She couldn't see under the cloth, but she could swear he was smirking. "You really need to be careful. This place isn't safe."

There was worry on Nate's face - exactly the worry that Blair wanted to see. She grit her teeth.

"So who exactly are you two?" Carter interupted. If they weren't Brooklynites, then he wasn't going to let them live for much longer. He considered their nice clothes for a moment. Then again, they weren't from _here._

"I'm...C," the guy revealed. Blair was sure he was smirking again. "And this is D."

"No A?" Carter aksed drily.

The guy ignored him. "We were in the city for trade - we came from the subway."

Nate blinked. "The what?"

Serena was the only person who didn't have to stop an eye-roll.

"Where the old trains used to run," the guy offered. "There's a group of us that live down there. It's a lot safer than...here."

Blair and Carter both regarded him for a second. For different reasons.

Carter had heard talk of the people in the subway - but he'd assumed it was rumour. It sounded too good to be true. A well-trained, well-stocked underground movement right under their feet? But if this guy was telling the truth, then perhaps it really did exist.

Blair, meanwhile, had slanted her gaze. She knew that the whole point of the Underground was to stay hidden, so why the hell had this guy just _told _them about it? Told Nate?

She suddenly went cold. He was from the Underground, whose sole purpose was apparently to remove the old families. Old families like the van der Bilts. They must have heard Nate was in the city. This guy had obviously been sent to - kill him? But if he'd wanted to kill him, then why bother coming up here and introducing himself? She directed a look of hatred at him as she tried to work it out. Clearly he was trying to get Nate on his side. Were the Underground trying to get him to _join _them?

"Here isn't that bad," Serena tried to insist as she watched the crease in Nate's face with dismay. Blair just gave her a look.

"Please," the guy - _C_ - was saying now. "My friend's in a lot of pain. Do you think we could stay here for the night?"

"Of course," Nate's reposnse was immediate. He put an arm around Blair. "And...thank you, for your help before." He was glad Blair had had someone out there. He didn't mind Humphrey as much as she did, but he had his doubts he would've been much help.

He glanced at Carter. "That's ok, isn't it?"

Carter paused. "Sure." He smiled as his eyes slid to the two well-dressed guys - seriously, C and D? - again. If the people in the subway were real then he intended on finding out.

Serena, meanwhile, had glanced at the still knocked-out Dan. "Should we try to wake your friend up?"

"No," Blair intercut hastily.

"Probably best he gets some rest," C agreed quickly.

* * *

><p>Once they'd shared out the food from their packs, Carter had come to the conclusion that keeping this C and D around was definitely a good idea.<p>

Chuck had spent most of the meal telling Nate all about the Underground - one big family that were working to make the city a better place. Where they had plentiful food, warm beds, and all got along. He could see the guy was interested.

He could also see that _B _was getting more and more annoyed. She couldn't say anything, of course. Not without revealing that she'd been the one to shoot Damien. The more stories Chuck told, the closer she burrowed to Nate and tried to distract him with hand-holding and endearments. Chuck couldn't help but think that pressing that little body of hers so close to Nate gave her an unfair advantage. Bitch.

He'd also recognised Carter. He'd almost frozen when the guy had come to the doorway and he'd seen him properly. Not him. Not here. He'd yanked the cloth over his face just in case, and he wasn't planning on taking it off. The thought of Carter recognising him, asking -

No one here knew him as Chuck. Even Damien only ever called him _captain. _He was safe.

_B _had climbed into Nate's lap now, and was curling her arms around his neck. "I'm tired," she said against his ear. She ran her fingers through his hair. "Can we go to bed now?"

Nate wondered if it was being away from Brooklyn that was making her so suddenly affectionate. "Sure." She probably was exhautsed.

Carter saw Serena tear her eyes away from them and slip out.

Nate stood, taking Blair's hand - she flashed Chuck a cool look of triumph as she wrapped herself around the blond's arm and followed him into a corner of the room. She made a show of snuggling up on his chest. If _C _changed his mind and considered taking Nate out while he slept, then she'd be the first to know. "I'm so glad you're with me," she whispered to him. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Nate squeezed her back. "You'd survive," he promised. She'd taken the cloth off her face now, safe in the darkness of the corner and Nate's arms. She moved up to kiss him - he pulled away. Kissed her forehead instead, like a brother. "We should get some sleep."

She forced a smile and dropped her head back on his chest. Jesus.

* * *

><p>"Give it up." Carter dropped onto the window ledge next to Serena. "Mooning over him is pathetic. He's a meal ticket, not your boyfriend."<p>

"I'm not mooning over him." Clearly her time with Carter had done nothing - she was still the worst liar in the world.

"You're a street rat," he told her, brutally. "And he'll be out of here after a few days. At the most. So you might as well milk him for everything he's worth - cause that's all you're going to get from him."

He was cut off as he was suddenly knocked from his perch, Serena's hands around his neck and his head thrust over the ledge. Her eyes burned furious and cold above him. "He's not a meal ticket. And you better watch your back, Carter. If you try to do anything to him then I might start using all that teaching you gave me." Her hands tightened for a second, blue gaze icy. "And I won't need a knife, will I?"

She released him and disappeared with a final look of warning. A tangled mane of blonde hair. Carter sat up and rubbed his neck. Sure. _Now _she remembered she knew how to kill.

* * *

><p>The room was pitch black as Blair slipped out of Nate's arms and crept along the floor, but she held the cloth over her face just in case. She didn't even need the light. She could hear Humphrey's snores. Her plan was simple. Murder him now, horrify Nate and make him realise those Underground people couldn't be trusted. She could already imagine the scene when he woke up to discover the bloody body – and the blame would have to go on the two outsiders he didn't know.<p>

She slipped to her knees, pulling out her knife. Humphrey was sprawled on his back underneath her. All in all, she'd say he was quite lucky; this would be quick and painless. He wouldn't even be awake. And really, that curly mop of insufferable self-righteousness deserved far less.

The blade was seconds from his neck when something gripped her arm. A hand, closed around her elbow – halting her progress – and a hard body behind hers. She didn't even need to turn. But the voice was against the shell of her ear anyway. "Not interrupting anything, am I?"

She hated that voice. Not just its soft taunt – but even worse, the way it still stirred the familiarity inside her. Even whispering. And she kept letting it throw her off guard. (It wasn't _his _voice and she was never going to hear it again, so why did she cling to anything that was like it?)

"Let me go," she hissed now. Dangerous.

"Oh, now I can't do that. You're in my way again."

Chuck had planned on killing Humphrey himself. He couldn't risk the guy waking up and blowing his cover. His plan had been to get rid of the body and then suggest the next morning that a thief must have come in. Maybe the same one that had 'attacked' them before. That should unsettle Nate enough to suggest moving to somewhere safe. Like the old subway.

But she'd got here a spilt second before him.

"Let me go," she said evenly, "Or I'll scream."

"And what are you going to tell precious Nate when he wakes up and sees you hovering over Humphrey's body with a knife?" Chuck enquired.

In one swift movement she dropped the blade and opened her mouth, drawing air into her lungs (because now when she screamed it would just look lke the guy was accosting her) - and a hand clapped over her mouth. His fingers stifled the sound.

How the hell had he worked out what she was going to do so fast?

She squirmed furiously as his hand held her in place. Then she bit down, hard. She twisted out of his grasp as he snarled in pain. His hand was bleeding. But he was no longer holding her, so screaming wouldn't do anything. He kicked her knife out of reach before she could lunge for it.

"Not the smartest move," he mocked. "Now all I have to do is show your boyfriend your teeth marks in my hand." Jesus, his hand _hurt_.

"Please," she said acidly back. "I could tell him you'd forced me to bite you and he'd still believe me. Do you really think he'd ever take your word over mine?"

"Yes, actually."

"And why's that?" she sneered.

"I have a witness."

She followed the tilt of his head and made out Carter. She had no idea how long he'd been standing there - neither did Chuck, in fact - but she could just make out his smirk. The gleam in his eyes.

"So," he sighed. "Not quite the innocent girlfriend you make out to be, are you?"

Blair turned on him - but he stopped her with his own weapon. "I wouldn't. You won't kill me as easily as your friend Dan. And Nate might be a bit shocked." Blair glowered and Carter glanced at Chuck. "So what is it Dan knows that you need to kill him for?" he asked idly. Chuck moved - but Carter stopped him too. "Now now. Don't worry, I know how to keep my mouth shut. I'll keep both your little secrets."

"In return for what?" Chuck demanded softly. He knew Carter. So did Blair.

Carter just smirked again as he regarded both of them. "I haven't decided yet." And then he was gone.

Chuck and Blair glowered at each other in the darkness. They were both about to say something cutting when Dan stirred in his sleep. He went to sit up, groggy, rubbing his eyes -

Blair knocked him out this time. If Dan woke up then he'd only start going on about finding his father, which Nate would no doubt agree to help with. They glared at his unconcious body - neither of them could kill him now that Carter knew. Great.

Just great.

* * *

><p><strong>AN - Thank you so much for all your feedback, I'm so glad that you're all still enjoying the story and taking the time to let me know! I really appreciate it :) **


	9. Chapter 9

Blair woke up the next morning feeling oddly cold; she reached for a moment for a body to find that there was none there. Something gripped her as her eyes snapped open -

There was a laugh and the smell of something sweet and cloying. Nate. Of course. She'd been reaching for Nate. That was what had thrown her. She sat up and wrinkled her nose. Seriously, what was that smell? And where the hell had Nate gone?

"Wow, man. That's so cool."

Her eyes darkened as she spotted the blond head. With _him. _Laughing his head off and smoking some kind of cigarette. Was that what the smell was? She jumped to feet and went over to them with a scowl. "Nate," she slipped her arms around his neck – he stank of whatever it was – and moved to nuzzle his cheek. "You weren't there when I woke up."

"Huh?" Whatever was in that cigarette, she realised with fury, seemed to be making him even dozier than usual. No doubt _C _had been using it to great advantage.

"Sorry," he drawled now. "I was just introducing your boyfriend to the wonders of weed."

"Weed?" she sneered back. "Like the plant that won't disappear when no one wants it?"

A hazy frown crossed Nate's face. "No," he explained. "This is a different kind of plant that only grows in the subway."

Blair repressed an eye-roll. Plants that _grew_ in the subway – God. More like the underground were the only people that had weaselled access to whatever the stuff was. She'd heard they did a roaring trade in narcotics. "I thought plants needed sunlight," she pointed out sweetly. "And there's definitely no sun underground." Nate was an outdoors boy, through and through.

Chuck just smirked and clapped Nate's back. "But there's plenty of this stuff," he assured him, indicating the joint. Nate grinned.

Blair sent him a look of loathing.

* * *

><p>Damien had had about enough. He'd had no choice but to go along with Chuck's plan and agree to keep his mouth closed, but his leg was killing him and they were all ignoring him. He'd had to sleep in the same room as the crazy girl who shot him. And now he had to watch as she slipped food into the blond Brooklynite's mouth, running her fingers over his hand and cutting up his food for him. Letting her anywhere near a knife was dangerous, he thought savagely as she laughed.<p>

Plus Chuck had used up his weed. _His _weed. After giving him a look of disdain for even packing any. And he hadn't offered Damien a single joint. He would kill for some weed right now to numb the pain in his leg. There was something wrong with it, he was convinced. This was all Chuck's fault. Chuck and that insane bitch.

The least they could do, when he was supposed to be an invalid, was bring him some breakfast. He struggled to his feet, snarling as his leg throbbed. None of them seemed to hear the noise as they carried on eating. It was only when he lurched over that Chuck gave him a warning glare as though to ask him what the hell he was doing.

"My leg," Damien growled.

The crazy bitch watched him coolly too. No doubt pleased with her handiwork. Hell, Damien had been about to do her a favour then before she'd whipped out her gun - that Dan guy looked like a complete tool.

Nate frowned a little. "Are you ok?"

"No," Damien spat. "It's all yellow and it won't stop bleeding."

"Your leg?"

"_Yes, _you moron. My leg."

Chuck shot him an icy look. "You'll have to excuse my friend. It must be the pain making him so rude." His eyes narrowed at Damien. "Perhaps I should give you that treatment I suggested earlier." Damien's gaze fell to the knife in his hand that he was supposedly using to cut his food.

"I'll be fine," he grit. Yeah. Because he was actually in a room with _two _crazy people. He went to sit down, teeth clenched as he put pressure on his leg.

"Do you want me to look at it?"

He turned. So did Nate. "You know first aid?" he asked Serena, impressed.

"Uh, some." She didn't quite meet the blond's gaze. She knew first aid because she'd spent hours pouring over books to try and help Eric – anything Georgie could get her hands on, except none of them knew how to read so Serena had wasted a lot of time learning pointless procedures. And nothing she'd done had helped her brother anyway. "I can try?" she offered.

Damien was about to refuse – no way was he letting some untrained savage from the city anywhere near his leg – but Chuck interrupted.

"A girl of many talents, I see." He glanced at Nate and then his eyes slid to Blair. "She's a keeper."

Damien flinched backwards as Serena approached him. "It's fine-"

"No no," Chuck smirked. "Let Serena try." His eyes were impassive as he regarded Damien.

The blonde knelt down, pushing up the fabric of Damien's pants. "It's infected," she frowned.

Damien shoved her way instantly. "You're not coming anywhere near me with a knife," he snarled. "I need this leg."

Serena raised an eyebrow at him. "Or we could just...clean it?"

Damien paused. He gave Chuck an ugly look. The _bastard. _Chuck gazed back, unaffected.

Serena was already reaching for water as she tugged off her tattered jacket, going to tear a strip off the bottom to start cleaning the wound. She wore a red shirt underneath, far too small for her and tight against her breasts. Nate tried not to stare at her curves, at the bare skin of her brown stomach. His mouth had suddenly gone dry as he tore his gaze away.

Damien licked his lips.

Carter rolled his eyes.

Blair had frozen. She hardly even noticed Nate's stare, and it wasn't Serena's exposed skin she was staring at. That shirt. That shirt had been _hers. _The colour had faded a little, and there were a few more holes – but she recognised the stitching and she recognised the collar. The sleeves. The frayed sleeve where she'd ripped off a piece to leave a message for _him_ -

And the last time she'd been wearing that shirt was the last time she'd ever seen him.

Chuck felt like he was going to throw up. He remembered pounding through the streets, remembered the way his heart had leapt when he'd seen that flash of red and then the sickness that had overwhelmed him as he'd chased the wrong girl wearing it. He hadn't bothered looking at her face except to realise that it wasn't Blair – but now, staring at the blonde, he realised it must have been her that he'd caught all those years ago. Even more of a reason not to let any of them see his face. She might remember how he'd bruised her arm.

He turned away, nauseous. A lump was threatening to choke him and breathing was suddenly difficult. This _fucking _city.

He caught B_'s_ eye as he turned – she'd turned too, probably had enough of watching Nate's obvious wonder – and gave her a single look of hatred. He hated her for having brown eyes. He hated her for being as clever as _she'd _been. He hated her for even moving the same way_ she_ had.

"Hey!"

Nate's face darkened as he saw Damien's hand sneak over Serena's breast. He moved over, instinctive, but Serena had already knocked the guy over the head.

Nate stared at her for a second – at the now unconscious Damien – and he laughed. She couldn't help but grin back at him. She loved his laugh, she realised. And he loved the way her blue eyes shone when she smiled. She had the happiest giggle he'd ever heard.

Blair saw and her gaze slanted dangerously. Clearly the blonde's removal of her jacket had been a deliberate attempt to seduce him. And of course Nate had fallen for it. Well, two could play at that game.

She shoved aside the pit in her stomach as she ignored the red shirt. She was going to lock Nate down once and for all. "Sweetie," she gripped his arm. "I...feel faint."

Nate finally dragged his eyes away from Serena to give Blair a look of concern. "Is it the blood?"

She nodded weakly. "I can smell it," she whispered. "Can we go into another room?"

Nate glanced at Serena once more, apologetic, and then nodded. "Sure. Come on." She leaned on him as he guided her out.

Chuck's lip curled as he watched the curve of her hips in those tight pants. He knew exactly why she'd dragged him away. And all the weed in the world couldn't compete with _that. _He'd have to find some way to stop them.

* * *

><p>Nate caught her once they were alone in the next room, and she let herself fall into his chest. "Better?" he asked as he studied her. But she didn't want concern in his eyes, she wanted <em>lust. <em>She needed complete control.

Her fingers curled on his collar. "Much better," she breathed softly. She stretched on her tiptoes to kiss him. And this time, she didn't let him pull away.

She felt him still under her lips. "Blair-" he attempted.

"I've waited so long for this," she kissed him again, sliding her hands over his chest.

His tried to pull back, confused. They were in the middle of a dusty room in an abandoned building. "Blair, the others are just-"

"I need you," she begged. "I realised just now how much."

"The blood's making you dizzy," Nate told her firmly. He tried to hold her up so she kissed him harder.

"No," she insisted. "You are." She gazed up at him. "I love you, Nate. Always have, always will."

His hand cupped her face, stopping her kisses. And there was such tenderness in his eyes that it made her want to slap him. "I love you too." If he said like a sister then she was going to scream. "But...more like a sister. I mean, we grew up together."

That hadn't stopped Tripp, she thought savagely. (And she'd grown up with someone else a long time before she met either him or Nate.) "I always knew." She let her voice tremble. "From the moment I first saw you, Nate, I knew. You're the one I want to marry." He wanted to be a doting husband and she knew it.

"Blair," he said, very softly. He let go of her to run a hand through his hair "I don't...even know if I _want_ to get married any more."

She controlled her fury long enough to let tears flood her eyes. "You mean you don't want me any more," she whispered.

"I love you," he told her again. "And I care about you. Enough to know that you don't want your first time to be like this." She barely even remembered her first time. She moved to kiss him again and he pulled back, once more. "Come on," he said gently. "Serena should be finished by now. Let's go back."

She yanked the material over her face so that it hid her glower as she let him lead her from the room. She couldn't do anything else for now.

And of course _he _was waiting just outside. "Just came to tell you all the blood's gone," he informed Nate. His gloating, dark eyes slid to Blair. "I wasn't interrupting anything, was I?" Something about the smirk in his voice, the black gleam in those eyes - she forced it away. She was letting that stupid shirt affect her still. Ghosts again. And she didn't want to see them in _him, _of all people.

He hadn't been able to catch what they were saying, but he hadn't needed to. He'd seen Nate hold her off. And that, he hadn't anticipated. He couldn't believe his luck.

Blair just glared at him as she swept past. Nate was already heading back to Serena, oblivious.

* * *

><p>Blair was making a show of being friendly to Serena - mainly to keep her away from Nate - and had offered to help with Damien. She'd given Nate a long-suffering look as she'd faced the blood, pushing him to guilt, but C had already spirited him away with more weed. She needed a new plan. She needed, she realised, to kill the blonde. She was distracting Nate too much. And Serena didn't look like she'd go down easy.<p>

Carter had joined Chuck and Nate on the other side of the room. Nate was still his number one investment, and he wasn't letting him out of his sight for a second. Especially not around C. He'd decided that if Nate was so important to both him and the girl, then the blond needed to be kept close.

"So what was I about to walk in on?" Chuck enquired as he took a drag. He watched Nate carefully. "You and your girlfriend finally sealing the deal?" He needed to link her to commitment and everything Nate was running away from. And then the harder she clung, the more he'd back off.

Nate frowned a little. "No offence, man, but that's not really any of your business." He liked the guy, but he wasn't about to discuss Blair with him. Plus he knew Blair would be embarrassed. He heard Serena's laugh behind them and couldn't resist turning to look. It made him smile. He wanted, more than anything, for the girls to be friends.

Chuck followed his gaze. "So it's blondes you've got a thing for?"

Nate turned away guiltily.

"Don't be such a dick," Carter drawled. Nate looked grateful and Carter smirked at Chuck. He still hadn't worked out whether it would be best to back B or C - but in the meantime, he was going to make sure he had Nate.

Chuck gave him a glower. "Right," he forced. "My apologies."

He couldn't stand it. All this having to play _nice. _He could keep it up for a while, but there was only so much someone could take. He glanced over to where B was chatting to the blonde like they were suddenly sisters. He wasn't as good as she was. Not at acting all sweetness. So he would _make _himself that good - because she wasn't going to beat him. He glared over at her in loathing, and she turned her head for a second like she'd sensed him. Brown eyes locked on his. And it was like a punch to his gut - that stupid _shirt -_ before he snapped out of it.

He was going to destroy her.

He was going to win.

And then he was getting_ out_ of here.

* * *

><p>Carter had had enough of crackers, and the packs the others had brought were running low. Time to get more food. He'd intended on going out by himself, but Nate had stopped him and insisted he wanted to come too.<p>

"I need to learn!"

Carter had managed to grit his teeth and not tell him to stop being such an idiot. He'd never get anything if he had the clueless blond following him around.

Chuck, however, had spied his opportunity. "I think that's a great idea," he cut in smoothly. "I'll come too." Carter's eyes narrowed on him for a second. "I can help," Chuck pointed out. "Three's alway better than two." Carter had to admit that he had a point - and maybe he could at least keep Nate distracted. Plus he looked pretty handy with that gun.

"Fine."

Blair watched with increasing wrath. _Of course_ he was trying to get Nate alone. No way was she letting him out there with just the two of them.

"I want to come too." And, as Nate glanced at her - "I mean...I need to learn too, right? If we're really staying here?"

She could tell that made him happy. "Great idea."

"Not really," Chuck stopped them. Blair gave him a slanted look that he ignored. "You're a target," he told her. "A girl so small...we'll be attacked." That infuriating tilt of his head made her blood seethe. "I don't think you could handle it. Best to stay here, where you're safe." He was smirking and she _knew _it.

"She'll be fine," Nate insisted, and his gaze was warm as he glanced at her. "We need to try."

Chuck switched tactics in the blink of an eye. "All right, but who's going to look after these two?" He glanced at Damien and Dan, who were still unconscious. "We can't just leave them here." He'd decided that it would be easiest to just slip Damien crushed sleeping pills, and Blair had decided the same for Dan. They were far less annoying that way. "Going out to get food is all very well, but you also need to learn how to keep watch."

Nate considered this for a moment, and had started to nod before Blair could object. "Ok, so I'll get the food this time, and next time Blair can."

Blair swiftly interlinked her hand in his, pulling him away from Chuck. "Nate," she whispered. "You're just going to leave me here?" Both Carter and Chuck rolled their eyes and she suppressed a smirk.

Nate, however, smiled and squeezed her hand. "Serena's here." He glanced at the blonde with a grin. "Don't worry, I'm pretty sure she can look after you."

Blair pressed her lips together. Chuck wondered idly if Serena would be dead by the time they got back.

"We'll see you later," Nate said cheerfully.

Chuck threw Blair one more cold, triumphant look before the three of them left.

* * *

><p>As if Blair was going to let Nate out of her sight for a second.<p>

"I'm going to go outside and keep watch," she told Serena innocently. She cut off the blonde's protests that they could hear just fine from up here; "I'll just go to the ledge and keep an eye out. I need to learn, right?" She disappeared.

And once she got to the ledge, she scaled straight down and jumped to her feet before moving off along the street.

Serena watched her go, eyes narrowed a little. What was she up to? The blonde paused for a moment and then jumped down after her, Dan and Damien forgotten.

* * *

><p>Carter had told Nate the plan was to break into a building and raid its food. But he'd already spotted his real targets - two streets up, a pair of figures lugging a box. Clearly gang members. They looked pretty big, so Carter would have to get them from a distance. He just needed to get rid of Nate first. The Brooklynite might find murder a bit too much.<p>

Chuck, meanwhile, was sure he'd felt her somewhere behind. He knew she wouldn't have just left them to it. He kept his senses tuned as they moved along.

"See," Carter was saying, "Once you get this down, the city's really not that bad. This is what freedom feels like." There was no harm in keeping up the propaganda while he looked for the chance to get Nate out of the way. "The people here know how to survive. They're the only ones that can really look after you." People like Carter, of course.

"I think that's playing it down a bit," Chuck intercut. "The city's still dangerous. And there are plenty of people," he gave Carter a nasty look, "That can't be trusted. It's nothing like where I come from."

"Please," Carter drawled, "Do enlighten us on the joys of living in a tunnel."

Chuck opened his mouth to rejoin when the sound of footsteps cut him off - definitely not her - and Serena appeared in a whirl of blonde. Nate seemed to have forgotten that Carter and Chuck existed as he blinked at her. "What are you doing here? Is everything ok?"

Serena worried her lip. "I'm sorry, I was following B but I lost her. I don't know where she is."

Nate looked instantly concerned. "She's out here by herself?"

"Pretty sure she's fine," Carter muttered, dry.

Nate didn't seem to hear. "We need to find her."

Carter was about to protest - they did not have time to waste searching for a girl that was more than capable of handling herself - but Chuck beat him to it. "Don't worry," he assured Nate, smiling grimly under the cloth, "You and Carter carry on with the food - I'll find her."

He smirked at Nate's look of relief and vanished. Oh, he'd find her all right.

Carter, meanwhile, had spied his targets slipping away. He glanced at the blondes. As long as Nate had Serena, he was pretty sure the Brooklynite would be fine. Carter had the marks on his neck to prove it - no way would Serena let anything happen to him. "Ok," he lied, "I'm just going to scout out that building ahead...I'll be back in a moment." Nate started to say that he'd come with him. "No no," Carter assured him, "One person always goes ahead first. You stay here. Serena will keep you company," he added. Then he was gone.

Serena offered Nate a helpless smile, and he couldn't help but grin back a little.

* * *

><p>Chuck prowled along the streets, listening out for her. He knew she was there. He just didn't know where. He tensed at a noise behind him - and then he caught the shadow, the glimpse of a reflection in the blurred, cracked shopfront ahead.<p>

He whirled around.

Nothing.

And then there was a knife pressed at his throat and a slender arm curled around his neck. "Looking for me?" she purred in his ear. She had to stand on tiptoes to reach, arched into him as her small breasts pressed against his back. She pushed the blade a fraction harder, increasing the pressure as her voice whispered against his skin. "Poor C, brutally murdered after he got separated from the group..." Her murmur dragged out the vowels of her Brooklyn accent till it was almost non-existent, and something about the mocking lilt in her voice reminded him of another time and another girl -

He slammed down on those thoughts hard. And then he moved before she had a chance to react, gripping her wrist and yanking the knife away as he twisted her round to face him. He moved so fast she should have over-balanced, but she landed perfectly on her feet and jerked her wrist free. She was still holding her knife as she faced him. Except now he had his too.

They circled each other slowly, langurously.

"You need to go home to Brooklyn," he sighed. "Because - let's face it - Nate doesn't want you. And you can throw yourself at him all you like. It's not going to convince him to leave."

She laughed mirthlessly. "And what? You really think he'd join your little underground movement instead? Just because he's decided to rebel doesn't mean he's stopped caring about his family." It was a sneer. "He'd never do anything to hurt them. You're never going to win."

Chuck just snorted. "Do you know how many pathetic idealists join the Underground swearing they'll never murder as long as they live? I can tell you none of them are as easy to influence as your little boyfriend. He'll join," Chuck's face was cold, "And he'll do whatever we tell him to. He'll even want to."

"Try it," Blair taunted back.

Chuck's mouth twisted in satisfaction. "All I'd have to do is get Serena to join."

It was worth it for the fury in those brown eyes as she realised he was telling the truth.

* * *

><p>Dan woke up feeling like he'd been hammered over the head. Several times. In fact, a few jumbled memories of someone hitting him - more than one person hitting him - swam as he tried to sit up. He groaned. Where the hell was he?<p>

He stared around the empty room, disorientated. This wasn't Brooklyn. Then he froze as he remembered. He was a long, long way from Brooklyn. How long had he been out for? By himself? Anything could have happened, he realised in horror. And where the hell was Blair?

He peered around again and got the fright of his life when he saw the body. He stumbled to his feet, wincing as the room spun.

"Hello?" he croaked nervously. He inched towards whoever it was. What if it was a thief, lying in wait to attack him? Dan fumbled around for something he could use as a weapon and seized upon a bar. He moved a little closer, gripping it tight in front of him. "Uh, excuse me?"

He prodded the guy with a toe. And as he prodded again, whoever it was rolled onto his back and muttered something, eyes stirring. Dan choked as he realised he recognised him – the same guy that had tried to knife him in that street.

Damien awoke to a curly mop and bar raised over his face. "What the hell?" He lurched upwards, reaching for his gun on instinct. Dan let out a yelp of horror and hit him with the bar.

Damien roared in pain, staggering to his feet. His head was ringing like a motherfucker as he raised his gun – and Dan panicked and struck him again, getting his hand this time so that the weapon scattered to the floor. He tried to lunge for it before Damien could, stumbling over his feet, and it was only through sheer luck that he grabbed it before the other man.

He pointed it wildly. "Don't come any closer! Or I'll shoot!"

"I'd like to see you try," Damien snarled. He'd already pulled out his knife. Dan saw the gleam of the blade and his mind went white with fear. His hands shook as he squeezed the trigger, desperately – the shot missed and Damien laughed, reaching for him again, so Dan fired again.

And this time it hit Damien straight in the forehead.

Dan stopped, stunned, as the guy keeled over. He stared in nausea at the blood spilling onto the floor. He'd just _killed_ a man.

He was still shaking as he dropped the gun, turned and ran. It was either that or throw up. He ran all the way out of the building – and he didn't plan on stopping till he got the hell out of this city and back to Brooklyn.

* * *

><p>"I hope she's ok," Nate muttered as he sat with Serena on a crumbling stone wall. They were still waiting for Carter to return. Although Nate wasn't really thinking about Carter as he felt the blonde's warmth next to him.<p>

Serena regarded him for a moment. "You really care about her," she said, softly. She'd never met anyone as lovely as Nate before. Except Eric. Eric had had that same quiet, simple goodness to him.

Nate smiled a little. "I just...I thought getting out here would be good for her," he confessed. "Getting out of Brooklyn. She says she loves it - loves my grandfather - and I think she believes she does, but..."

"But what?" Serena's smile was gentle, wondering.

"But she's changed," Nate admitted. His brow furrowed. "I don't know when it happened. I don't know if it's just living in Brooklyn or what, but...when I first met her, she was so wild." He smiled at Serena again, thinking, _like you._ "She was...free, I don't know. But now I look at her and I wonder if I even know her at all. It's like...all the light has gone out of her. She never used to be like this," he explained. "So crazy or needy. I mean, I don't think she did. That first week when we first brought her back from here-"

Serena started. "Here?"

Nate paused a moment, realising he'd said more than he'd meant to. "She's from this city," he sighed at last. "But she'd kill me if I let anyone know. We found her by herself a few years ago and took her in." His brow had creased again. "I guess I thought I was helping her, but...now I don't know. Sometimes I wonder if she'd just have been happier here the whole time." He glanced at the blonde. "I'm happier here," he murmured. "Happier than I've ever been."

She gazed at his blue eyes and she realised she wanted to kiss him. They were leaning into each other now, her arm still brushing his. He wanted to run his hand through that tangle of golden hair -

"Good news." Carter was back. "I've got food!"

He'd seen the pair of them. He still thought Serena was being ridiculous, but he didn't mind too much that she was doing such a good job of reeling him in. Still, they'd be all awkward if they kissed. Best to keep that yearning desire unfulfilled - then Nate would keep coming back for more.

"Ready to go home?"

Nate blinked. It took him a moment, thoughts still reeling with Serena's closeness, but as he saw Carter moving away he remembered. "Wait, what about Blair?"

(Carter frowned for a second. Blair?) "Don't worry," he assured Nate airily as he pondered the name. "C found her. They're probably back already." Well, either that or they'd killed each other - but Carter wasn't hanging around on the street to find out. Especially not when it looked like it was about to rain. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>Nate saw the body and the blood first; he lurched back, grabbing instinctively for Serena's hand. "What-"<p>

Serena stared too, appalled. What the hell had happened?

Carter crouched down next to Damien to get a closer look. "He's been shot," he muttered, and his senses were already prickling as he surveyed the room. Then he noticed the gun on the floor. He picked it up and realised that there was also no sign of Dan. He tried to piece it together, glancing again at Damien and noting that his face was bruised like he'd been beaten too. The dead body didn't overly bother him – he was more worried that whoever had done it was still here. Unless it had been that Dan guy.

Chuck and Blair arrived at the scene a moment later, but they both froze in the doorway, unseen, as they took it in. Both their minds worked overtime.

Damien dead, Dan gone -

Enough. Enough, Blair decided. No more distractions. Dan was out of the way and so was_ D. _Now she just had to get rid of C. And she had the perfect opportunity right now, she realised.

She stumbled forwards, throwing herself into Nate's arms. The blond nearly dropped her in his shock.

"Nate!" she sobbed as she held him. Her eyes were dry. "Nate, we have to get out of here!" She grabbed at him, pulling him round, gaze sliding to Chuck - "He tried to kill me!"

Nate stilled. _"What?"_

"He hasn't been trying to help us at all," she whimpered. "I came to find you and I got lost, and then he-" she pointed at Chuck, burying her face in Nate's chest, "Came out of nowhere and told me he could finally kill me because I was all alone and it would look like an accident-" Her voice caught as she clung to him. Nate was staring now.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Chuck kept his voice cool as he fought to maintain control. The _bitch. _"I found her, clearly delirious-"

"No," Blair wailed. "Everything he told you about the underground is a lie. They're an organisation that want to wipe out all Brooklynites. The only reason he pretended to help me was because he was hoping I'd lead him to you – and he told me," her voice caught, terrified, "He told me he wasn't going to stop until we were all dead. And he said that his friend was killing Dan as we spoke-" She glanced at Damien's corpse and let out another strangled sob. "But Dan must have fought back and escaped."

Nate's arm had wrapped around her as he looked at Chuck in horror.

Carter, watching, made up his mind once and for all. It was obvious who the winning side was now. He was calm as he pointed the gun he'd been holding straight at Chuck.

"Get out. Now."

Blair saw the absolute rage – the cold, deadly hatred – in those black eyes and felt a surge of triumph. She held Nate tighter.

Chuck had no choice but to leave. But he watched her and only her as he did so. The message was clear.

_I'm coming for you._

And Blair would be ready when he did.

* * *

><p>She kept on shaking as Nate held her, rubbing her back. "It's ok," he soothed. "It's ok. He's gone."<p>

"I was so scared," she whispered. "I thought I was going to die." The time had come to strike. Right now. "Nate," she begged. "We have to go back to Brooklyn." His mouth opened but she didn't let him. "Please. I know you're mad at William, but you still love him. We have to warn him. We have to warn all of them. If there are more people like _him-_"

She saw the conflict on his face.

"If you don't go back then I will," she said tearfully. "I could never forgive myself if anything happened to your family and I didn't at least try to warn them."

Nate gripped her hands. His voice was heavy. "Ok." She gazed up at him. "Ok," he murmured. "We'll go back. We have to."

She snuggled up to him, tight, as hot satisfaction burned through her.

_Finally._

* * *

><p>She was still snuggled on Nate's chest – that Serena girl might murder him now that she'd realised she wasn't going to get what she wanted - when she woke up.<p>

She woke and she could _sense_ him. She knew he was here. He'd come for her. The room was pitch black as she moved to her feet. She could hear the hiss of the rain outside. No more messing around – he'd come to kill her, and she could feel it. She pulled the fabric off her face, not wanting anything to impede her vision. It was too black to see anyway. Her hand tightened on the gun.

He was waiting for her in the darkness. But where? She crept across the room to its threshold. Her footsteps were silent.

She strained with all her senses as she waited, poised, by the door. Nate's heavy breathing intermingled with Serena's behind her but there was only one person she needed to hear.

And then an arm crushed around her neck and she was slammed against a chest, hard as stone. It was no longer a taunt. His voice was soft with murderous loathing. "Move. Outside, now." He was dragging her away, not just holding her fast – he was squeezing her like he wanted to squeeze all the life out of her, fingers savage around her throat. He forced her forwards, out of the room and onto the stairs.

"This ends tonight."

* * *

><p><strong>AN - Thank you so so much for your reviews! I think this may be the longest chapter in this fic yet...hope it wasn't too all over the place with all the characters disappearing/ reappearing all the time! And ha I noticed that opinions of Serena are mixed - I promise I'm not trying to make her annoying. I mean, if it wasn't for the fact that she was going against Blair, I'd totally be on her side. Thanks again for the reviews :)**


	10. Chapter 10

She held herself very still in his grip. His clothes were damp with the rain that drummed against the stone above them. She had to wait for her chance.

But he wasn't letting her go this time. He was going to drag her away and kill her. When Nate awoke to find her gone, he wouldn't know what to think. For now, though, Chuck's only thought was to murder this girl once and for all.

He shoved her down the stairs, intending on getting her out of the building. She went rigid for a moment. His hand jerked at her shoulder blades to get her to move, and she used that spilt second to force her foot against his. The stairs were narrow and crumbling (just like they'd been _then_) – except this time he didn't have Blair to balance him, and his own foot, still wet, slipped.

She shoved. And she ran. She had nowhere to go but up, no route to reach for but the one they'd tried to use _then._

She didn't have Chuck's hand to grab hers as she pounded up the stairs, no one to push or pull. Just the man behind her. Her blood was pounding in her head, breathing harsh as she reached the top; and Chuck wasn't with her but she made straight for the door anyway, and Chuck wouldn't be there when it was locked -

But it wasn't locked, the handle twisted and she lurched onto what had once been the observation deck. (If it had opened _then _they never would have gone in the elevator and they never would have met Jack and she never would have left him and he would still _be here_) – but now it was just her and the rain, blinding her vision as she moved to the edge. She and Chuck had memorized the way down together. But there was no Chuck to give her a leg up onto the wall so she could help him up, and as she grabbed the brick ledge she realised she'd miscalculated -

And the man was behind her, and she felt him drag her back down. He had her pinned against the wall now, pressed against her back.

Seeing her reach for the ledge had jolted him, made bile rush to his throat, because why was he so desperate for anything, anything to bring even a fraction of Blair back that he was still letting this girl remind him of her? Why was he drowning in memories of Blair now as he pressed his knife to her throat? He wanted her – Blair - so much it _hurt _but he was the one doing the chasing and this time he was the one who was in control. He wasn't that scared little boy that had needed Jack to save him because he hadn't been able to save Blair.

"I'm going to enjoy this," he hissed into her ear as he forced her against the bricks, trapping her hands so she couldn't do anything. Not this time. His hand closed around her throat and he turned her round. He wanted to see her face as he killed her.

Her dark hair was plastered against her skin – he shoved it away as she tilted her face up to him, defiant.

He was still holding her throat as he took her in, drank her in, and suddenly all the air left his lungs. Because he was looking at _her. _Dark hair and fierce brown eyes and that nose and that mouth, that curve of her cheek – he was looking at a ghost. It couldn't be her. It wasn't her. A ghost.

A ghost that climbed and jumped and ran the same way she had, a ghost that taunted and mocked the same way she had, a ghost that smelt the same way she had in the rain – a ghost that had taken the same route up the building and reached for the same door and tried to escape the way they'd always planned.

Impossible. He stared at her – it was impossible. She was _dead_.

And it caught in his throat, the name he hadn't said in eight years, hadn't heard in eight years as he searched every inch of her face and his heart hammered.

"Blair?"

His chest hurt so much, drowning in her eyes and her face in numb disbelief, that it took him a moment to acknowledge the pain just below. To realise that she'd taken advantage of his pause and thrust a knife into him just as he'd said her name.

She'd expected a rush of victory.

But she froze as she gripped the hilt. Froze because something about the way those eyes had darkened and the name on his lips – _her _name, and no one said it like that, no one had ever said like that but _him - _

She grabbed at the material covering his features and yanked it off.

Her hands moved desperately over his face because it _couldn't _be. The sharp, slanted lines of his cheekbones. His thick, dark hair. His lips and the shape of his mouth. And those eyes, the amber in them that burned in the dark night.

"Chuck?"

It came out strangled against the howling wind, as she saw the golden flecks in those eyes fade and he slumped forwards, into her, knife stuck as she held the handle uselessly.

She jerked it out and grabbed him, his shoulders, sinking with him to the floor. It couldn't be him. The impossible weight of his heavy, hot body as she pulled his face up to hers again, cradling it in her hands. _Chuck. _How could it be him? She searched his features desperately.

"Chuck," she whispered, broken, impossible.

Chuck was bleeding to death in her arms.

* * *

><p>They were woken by the crash of the door; and for a moment, as Carter woke, he couldn't make sense of what he was seeing.<p>

"Blair?" Nate sounded lost as he took in the same thing.

A girl half drowned by the rain stood shaking in the door, white-faced and wild-eyed, dark hair drenched and her arms wrapped around a body, a larger frame slumped against her and a dark head pressed against her neck.

"What the-"

"He needs help. We need help." Her voice was savage and wild and unlike anything Nate had never heard – for a moment he wondered if he was even looking at Blair -

But she was yanking the body forwards with more strength than Nate had ever known that tiny frame possessed, dragging him into the room as she sank to the floor with him. It was then that Nate realised just who he was, and then that he saw the blood all over her hands and clothes.

"He's dying. We need _help._"It was ragged. "I don't know how to make the bleeding stop. I can't make it stop. We have to make it stop." Nate stared, helpless, and it was Serena who moved forwards.

Blair jerked, moving instantly over his body as though to cover him, protect him - her eyes were slanted and burning as she took in the blonde.

Serena kept her voice very soft. "I know how. Let me help."

Blair still gripped his jacket as she moved, warily, to let the other girl examine his wound. She didn't leave his side for a second.

Serena bit her lip, peeling away blood-soaked clothes to examine his torso. She moved over the puncture. "He's been-"

"Stabbed." It was spat. "Can you help him or not?" Blair sounded like she was teetering dangerously close to the edge. She refused to let him go. She wasn't even looking at Serena – her eyes were on him and him only.

"I can try," Serena promised firmly. "I need material to staunch it, can you rip up your jacket?" Blair moved to do so straight away, and the expensive fabric was shredded in seconds. "Keep pressure on it," Serena instructed as she saw to the wound.

Nate was silent as he watched the two girls work. Even Carter, for once, kept surprisingly quiet with the digs. (Although he did think that if he'd realised Serena could do _this _before, then he could have put it to great use. Started charging people for her treatment. Of course she'd only chosen now to be quite so useful.)

"Well?" Blair demanded when Serena finally ran a hand over her forehead. Blair's fingers were still clenched over his, bloody. "Is that it? Can't we do anything else?"

Serena exhaled. "We've done all we can," she murmured. The girl in front of her was still white-faced, eyes blazing as she hunched at his side.

"Blair," Nate offered at last – he was still a little (a lot) freaked out - "You should probably get some rest."

Blair ignored him. He touched her shoulder, hesitant, and it was like ice. The look she gave him had not one shred of kindness in it. Not one ounce of love. It was black and hollow and it burned him just to look at it. He moved away.

She'd already turned back to Chuck.

She wasn't even aware of the others behind her as her eyes moved over his face again. Agony. How was it possible? She couldn't stop herself from pressing her fingers against the pale skin, tracing his cheeks and the bruised shadows under his eyes, from laying her hand on his chest just to feel his heart beat. She breathed out as his rib cage rose under her fingers. He was _here. _He was alive. He had to stay alive.

She didn't understand it. Her usually quick mind could make no connection, no path between the blind exhausting whirl of confusion. The boy at her side and the man who'd chased her - and _Chuck_. He was breathing. He was blood-stained and real under her fingers and alive. She closed her eyes and slipped her body down over his, covering his heart with her head so that she could feel its thump under her ear. She fell asleep with his jacket still fisted in her hand, impossibly tight.

* * *

><p><strong>AN - Phew. Ok, I know this chapter is a bit shorter. I was going to be very mean and leave it just after Blair stabbed Chuck - but I couldn't do it to you. Or to Chuck and Blair. Plus then the chapter would have been even shorter. So...I know them realising who the other are has been built up a lot, and I really really hope this chapter lives up to that. Gulp. It is the one that I've worked the hardest on, I actually wrote it right after I separated them in the fic. Erm so hopefully it kind of paid off? :) Also, don't worry – there is still plenty of story to come! Although I should mention that the reason these updates have been so quick is because I've been recovering from a hospital trip and haven't had anything to do but write lol – but it's back to the real world next week, so I'm not sure how frequent they'll be from then :( I'm really sorry, I will try my hardest. And thank you so so much for all your reviews in the meantime! **


	11. Chapter 11

Chuck was dreaming. A dream or a memory, he didn't care as long as he didn't wake up. As long he never woke up. He was twelve years old again and her body was warm against his, a weight that had never gone. Like she'd never left. Like he'd never lost her. He could see the ceiling of the Empire State building above him, every crack, and he could feel the softness of her hair under his chin and the sharp grip of her fingers.

He was home and he was never waking up again.

He inhaled, breathed her in like it would somehow make it real – and then the pain hit him. Pain that burned through his torso as he flinched, eyes snapping open. Her hair was still damp. The rain. The stairs. The knife.

And _her -_

She felt his hands tighten, felt them dig into her waist as she came to. His eyes were wild and black underneath her as he held her, crushing her, and searched her face desperately. His breathing was harsh and his chest ragged against hers.

"Chuck." She couldn't move in his grip but she dragged her hand up, sliding her fingers over his chest to the hard line of his jaw.

His voice was broken. "You're alive." He stared up at her, lost and hungry and savage as he tried to take in every detail of her face, still waiting to wake up. "You're alive." It cracked. Let him be awake. Please let him be awake. Please, _please _let him be awake this time. Let it be real.

Her hands caught his face, trembling. He was awake. He was ok. And it really was him. They were silent as they stared at each other, as they tried to make it sink in.

Then he finally _breathed_, nose burying into the crook of her neck, her sweet wet skin as his fingers tangled in her hair. She clung to him. She was real. Blair was real. "You're here," he murmured blindly into her. "You came back." Her fingers dug into his scalp as she cradled his head.

He was awake.

* * *

><p>He wasn't sure how long it took for his heart to stop pounding like it was going to burst out of his chest, her heart on top of his as they lay together. But he finally shifted to sit up - because he needed to see her face, needed to look at her properly and <em>hear <em>her like he could somehow make sense of it.

His torso was stiff and his abdomen throbbing as he eased himself up against the wall. Her hands tighened on his shoulders - she leaned away to let him move, and his eyes travelled over hers. She'd seen him wince at the pain. Their legs stayed tangled till they were facing each other and her fingers moved, slow, over his wound. He realised then that she was covered in blood – his blood – and that her thin shirt was stained red. No jacket. It was instinctive to pull her closer, harder against him – like they'd done whenever it was cold and he could see the goosebumps that ran over her pale skin. Their bodies were almost touching now, her fingers still tracing his sore chest, skirting the puncture and the soaked fabric.

He caught her hand and she stilled.

He followed her gaze down to the rough dressing.

"Serena," Blair murmured by way of explanation, voice low in her throat. "Serena helped you." The skin was hot under her touch even through his clothes. "I thought I was going to lose you all over again." It came out choked as his fingers tightened over hers. He was never going to lose her again. Never.

But the mention of the blonde brought him back, and they both glanced round the room to where the others were sleeping. Serena had ended up sprawled on Nate, her hair covering his face and his arm slung over her waist. Carter was nowhere to be seen. No doubt out and up to no good. Serena. Nate. All of it – the Underground and Brooklyn and the woman and the man they'd both wanted so desperately to kill.

Chuck could see the red on the blonde in the shadows and his grip on Blair tightened, unconscious. "You were dead," he said hoarsely. "She told me she found your shirt on a body. You were _dead_."

Blair's eyes moved after his, narrowing in confused realisation as she saw the shirt too. She shook her head. Whichever body Serena had got it from -

"I got caught." Still the shame – shame that she'd been so careless, so idiotic, that she'd let them trap her like some kind of stupid pet. That she'd let them stop her getting back to him. "I went to see," she remembered, "To find out how dangerous it was." Her voice stuck bitterly. "And you were right. You were right when you said the target was a bad idea – it was William van der Bilt."

"I know." He'd found out exactly who it had been and he'd vowed never to forget. "I saw the blood. The bodies." And he'd seen her in his mind, over and over, a corpse like all the others.

His jaw was tight as she shook her head again. "They took me back to Brooklyn." Her eyes flickered to his in angry humiliation. "I was going to escape. I was going to find you. And then he told me you were dead, and...I believed him." She'd believed him and she'd given up.

"Who?" he muttered. "William?" Because William had still taken her away from him and he wanted the old man dead. Not just dead. He wanted him to suffer. He wanted him to lose everything.

"No." She scoffed miserably. How had she let herself _believe_ him? How had she let herself give up? "Jack."

_Jack? _Chuck stared at her. That was impossible. "He – what?" He moved his head as though sure he'd misheard. "Jack?" Blair frowned - but Jack couldn't have done. "How the hell did he even tell you that?" Chuck finally demanded. It wasn't possible.

"He showed up at William's-"

"That's impossible," Chuck repeated. He was still staring at her. "He'd never go to Brooklyn." Hell, he'd never be _able _to go to Brooklyn.

"He would," Blair responded. "He's a Bass. I looked him up," she admitted, and her eyes were dark. She'd needed to do her own digging and Brooklyn had all the resources available. Every family was listed, traced back to how far their claim ran over the city. Lineage was all the old families cared about. She hadn't been able to work out where exactly Jack spent his time now - he'd never reappeared in Brooklyn - but she had worked out who he was."He's from one of the oldest families in New York." She paused a moment, eyes lifting to Chuck's. "Which means," she said quietly - and the irony hadn't been lost on her, all those years, "That if he really was your uncle...you have better lineage than anyone in Brooklyn."

Chuck was silent. "Jack can't be from any of those families," he said, flat. "He's the one running the organization trying to kill them."

That made Blair stare. _What?_ "He's the head of the Underground?" She hadn't even known if the guy was alive; how the hell could he - and then she realised, and her gaze moved over Chuck's face. "You've been with him," she said numbly. "All this time, you've been with _Jack?_"

His lip twisted in answer. "He took me there." All those years ago. "That was the place he was talking about."

They both gazed at each other - because it didin't make sense_._

_"_He told me you were dead," Blair spat at last. Her eyes burned and so did his. "He told me you were _dead_."

Chuck couldn't _believe _that his uncle had gone to her and - and then he froze. Jack had gone to see her. Jack had gone to Brooklyn and seen her. He suddenly remembered his own wild, blind chase through the streets and his uncle's hand on his shoulder when he found the shirt. "He saw you," he choked. He'd suddenly grabbed her, his fists clenched over her arms. Jack had seen her. Jack had known she was alive. His uncle had _known. _"He knew you were in Brooklyn the whole time."

Hatred sparked in their gazes - but something violent twisted inside Chuck. Eight years. Jack had taken him in. Trained him. Jack had spent every day with him letting him think she was dead.

"I'm going to kill him," he said softly. His eyes had gone almost blank. "He's dead."

She felt the furious, seething shudder that ran along his body as her hands stilled on his chest. He was still holding her. She touched his jaw again and then laced his fingers through hers. She had him back and nothing was going to take that away. "He's dead," she whispered.

"Who's dead?"

Carter dropped in through the window and landed, nonchalant, on his feet. He gazed down at the two of them with a smirk; Chuck rolled his eyes.

"So." He sat down next to the huddled pair, elbows resting idly on his knees. "Chuck." He was still smirking as he glanced between them. "Blair." His eyes gleamed. "It's been a while." They said nothing as his gaze landed on Chuck's wound and Blair's grip on his jacket. "Decided to wait till he's healed before you kill him properly?" he drawled at her. Blair ignored him. "I can't say I blame you," he went on lazily. "I mean, look at how far you both got once you abandoned each other..." His mouth curled. "You almost had me fooled."

"What do you want, Carter?"

Carter arched a brow at them. "In a word? In. I want to know how you got out of this city, and I want in on it. Brooklyn or your subway hideout - I don't care. It can't be that hard if you two managed it, and I want to know how."

Blair rolled her eyes this time. "Or what?"

"Why," Carter smirked, "Would you automatically assume this is a threat? I'm suggesting a deal. I'll help you kill whoever it is you need to kill, deliver golden boy," he jerked his head at a still sleeping Nate, "To whichever side you want...and in return, all I'm asking for is a little entry pass."

The expression on their faces told him just how much they believed that.

"Come on," he sighed. "This is how we always worked before. I help you, you help me." He paused as he gave them both looks. Deliberate. "Or are you not the same people any more?" He hid his satisfaction as he saw Blair's face darken and Chuck's grip tighten. Oh, they were still the same people.

"And what makes you think," Chuck asked dangerously, "That we even need your help?"

Carter shrugged in answer. "Well, judging from how much you weirded out poor Archibald last night," his eyes slid to Blair, "I'd say any hope of him being your boyfriend again is gone. So, really, I'm the only person he trusts." He nodded over at Serena. "Me and blondie. Besides, this person that you want dead - if he managed to split you two up, clearly you're no match for him. I'd say," he concluded smugly, "That you need all the help you can get."

He received a glower from Blair.

"Now do we have a deal or not?"

"To be decided," Chuck sneered back.

"Depending on how useful you prove yourself." Blair's eyes were narrowed.

Carter smirked again. "When it comes to murder? Please." He settled himself more comfortably as both Chuck and Blair fixed him with baleful glares. "So. What's the plan?"

* * *

><p>It took Nate a moment to work out where he was when he woke up, though he was oddly comforted by a mouthful of blonde hair. Serena's muffled breathing against him was a soothing sound. Oh. Blair, he realised hazily, might freak out if she saw -<p>

Then he remembered.

He was almost nervous about glancing over to the other side of the room, for fear of what he'd find. That half wild girl from last night? His eyes widened when he did look, as he realised what he was seeing.

The guy - Nate didn't know who he was at all any more - was awake. He was propped up against a cracked pillar, but he wasn't looking at Nate. No. His eyes were on the girl preparing food. The scene could have been domestic, were it not for the intensity of the hunger he was watching her with. Were it not for Blair's pale face still streaked with blood and her hard, dark eyes. Nate still wasn't sure he recognised her. Had she always moved so sinuously? Had she always looked so young and brittle and vulnerable and savage? She didn't smile at the guy like she'd smiled at Nate, with her mouth, but her eyes burned.

Who _was _he?

(And who was she?)

"Finally, you're awake." Carter gave Nate a smile as he tossed him some breakfast. "Sleep well?" He glanced at Serena, who was still snoring on Nate's chest, and Nate looked a little sheepish.

"Uh...yeah."

Serena picked that moment to wake up and fix Carter with a look, sleepy blue eyes slanted - presumably because he was standing so close to Nate. Carter repressed an eye roll and backed off a little.

Both blondes glanced at Chuck and Blair again. "He's ok." Serena sounded relieved, but she was still staring at Blair in wonder. Blair was busy cleaning Chuck's wound and ignored them. Nate looked decidedly uncomfortable.

Carter smiled at him again. "So it turns out B hasn't been entirely honest with you, Archibald. She's not from Brooklyn."

Serena sent Nate a quick look that he returned. "I know," he admitted. "She's...from here."

"So is he." Carter nodded at Chuck. "I got the story before you woke up - apparently they're old friends."

Nate's eyes widened again. "So Blair knew him the whole time?" But Blair had said the guy _attacked _her. And how exactly had he ended up stabbed? Also, Nate couldn't help but think, they looked like a lot more than old friends.

Carter paused. "Well, I guess there was some kind of mix-up with all the letters and the smog that affects them so much." Neither of them were wearing their face coverings now, he noted dryly. "But hey," he nudged Nate. "If Blair trusts him, we can too - right?"

There was a moment of doubt on Nate's face. (Could he trust Blair?)

"Right," Serena jumped in. She grinned at Nate and he relaxed a little. Carter was actually impressed. But she just narrowed her eyes, warning, when he smirked at her.

"Right," Nate murmured.

"What's the matter?" Carter drawled lightly. "Jealous she had friends before you?" Something about the way he said _friends _made Nate glance at them again, made him notice - like Carter - how just how thin and tight Blair's shirt was and wonder if there hadn't been something more in the way the guy was looking at her. He suddenly recalled his comments about _sealing the deal. _Hell, Nate had never even _thought _about Blair that way before.

"I'm not jealous." He didn't quite manage to take his eyes away from her. He wasn't...jealous. Just protective. And why wouldn't he be? Blair was his oldest friend. But he was slightly disturbed to realise that he wasn't hers. "I just...never knew. She never told me."

"Well," Carter assured him, "You can't know everything about her. I mean, you weren't there for a whole twelve years when he was." He managed not to grin at the furrow in the blond's brow. He'd fed Nate the story that Chuck and Blair had instructed, but he had his own seeds to sow too.

"Yeah," Nate frowned, "But I know what she's like now."

"Sure," Carter appeased. It was too easy. Nate was still looking at Blair in wary confusion - so Serena elbowed him to snap him out of it.

"Let's eat," she prompted.

She ignored Carter. Nate was soon distracted by her, but something unsettling still rested at the back of his mind any time he glanced over at the dark pair.

* * *

><p>"Nate."<p>

Nate turned - Blair was standing behind him. She'd washed her face and let her hair down so that she looked a little more like the Blair he knew from Brooklyn. She also offered him a smile. (He couldn't help but notice that her eyes remained the same, though). He glanced over her shoulder.

"Chuck's getting some rest." Nate wasn't entirely sure he liked the way she said his name. Or...not that he disliked it, exactly, more that its familiarity unnerved him. "We need to talk." Her tone was sweet but pointed.

Nate finally nodded, following her into the other room. "Blair," he said once they were alone. "What...I mean, what's going on? Last night-"

"Nothing," she told him. "Don't worry about it. Chuck and I grew up together, and now he needs my help. Serena did a great job, but he needs to get back to the Underground so he can be treated properly."

Nate blinked. "And you're going with him?" He shook his head in bewilderment. "But you said that the Underground wanted to kill Brooklynites - you said he tried to kill you!"

She paused for a moment. "I...lied. I didn't recognise Chuck till that moment, and I didn't want him to recognise me. You know how much I hate this city. I belong in Brooklyn, Nate. You know that."

The blond stared at her. Yes, he did know that. Or at least he knew the lengths she took to conceal her past. "So you lied?" he repeated.

Blair exhaled, shortly. "Chuck didn't try to kill me. But it is true that the Underground aren't a fan of Brooklyn. Or at least, Chuck's uncle isn't. And he's the one in charge."

"His...uncle?"

"Jack. I never got on very well with him - that's why I ran away eight years ago. I can't imagine he'll be pleased to see me now, but Chuck needs help." Her tone was even and the lie easy.

Nate studied her. "So...you're going there."

She nodded.

He only needed to think about it for a moment. "I'll come with you," he promised. He wasn't leaving her by herself, even if it was with some guy she'd supposedly grown up with. Who knew what the Underground was like?

Blair seemed to consider this. "Maybe you could convince them," she suggested, "That Brooklynites aren't all that bad?" She saw the light dawn in his eyes. Nate was far too affable to enjoy being disliked.

His hands closed over hers. "Ok." When she pulled away without returning the gesture, and simply gave him another smile he was oddly...disappointed? Was he imagining the sudden distance? He'd always been the one pulling away before, he was sure of it.

"Thank you, Nate."

And then she was gone.

* * *

><p>She could see Chuck sillouhetted in the window frame on the other side of the room, and went to move to him - but someone stopped her. Serena. The blonde pushed her into a corner before Blair could do anything about it.<p>

She turned, snapping. "What?"

Serena arched an eyebrow at her. "I heard your conversation this morning. With Carter." Blair stopped for a moment as she looked at the blonde - so she hadn't been alseep.

"And?" Her tone was like ice.

"And if you want to kill someone, then it's none of my business. But you're not using Nate as a pawn."

Blair's lip started to curl. "And this has anything to do with you because?"

The other girl towered over her. "Because I _like_ him. So I'll go along with your plan, but you have to promise he doesn't get hurt. And I'm gonna make sure of it."

Blair glanced up at her. "That's very touching-"

"You owe him," Serena pointed out. "From what I've heard about William van der Bilt, you're lucky you got taken back to Brooklyn and not killed that day. The least you could do is not kill him in return."

The brunetter pursed her lips together. "Fine," she said at last. "Once we get to the Underground, I'll leave him in your capable hands."

A look of understanding passed between the two girls and Serena nodded. "Fine."

Blair sighed. "Now, can you let me go?"

Once the blonde had released her she headed straight to the window. Chuck was silent as she slipped down next to him. She realised she still couldn't quite get over the strangeness of it. It felt so familiar it made her chest hurt - but it wasn't, all at once. Scheming with Chuck she was used to. But her brain still hadn't wrapped itself around the fact that he was alive and here, and still she found her eyes drinking him in to try and make it more real. His profile was harder and sharper and more grown up than she'd been used to. His black hair was shorter, well-cut but just as thick, and his eyes were the same black gold but his face was older and his shoulders broader. He slid his hand over hers, and the shape of his knuckles were familiar, but the fingers were larger and there were lines, marks that hadn't been there eight years ago. They were the hands of a man and not a boy. She traced them anyway, unable to stop herself.

"Did it work?" he murmured.

"He's coming. And I think he'll try to be friendly."

Chuck just nodded. They were silent as they watched the sun sink over the city, streaking the sky red and lengthening the ragged shadows of the buildings.

"Chuck." Her voice melted into the evening as the tips of her fingers moved over his skin. It was so familiar that she wanted to sink her head into his arm, against his chest - and yet the feeling gripped her suddenly that she was sitting next to a stranger. His shoulder was hard against hers.

He turned to look at her and her voice stuck in her throat. His eyes blazed burnt amber as they roved her face and pushed a shiver up her spine that she couldn't suppress. Had looking at him always made it this diffcult to swallow? No, she realised. Because she'd always assumed that he would always be there because she couldn't have imagined life without him. Becaue he couldn't have imagined life without her. What were they without each other?

But she'd been without him for eight years, and now just seeing him made her ache.

His hand tightened round hers. And at the pressure from his fingers, she leaned her head against him and closed her eyes. He smelt of soap like he never had then, and the scent of the city was already leaving its mark - but underneath it, as her cheek slid against his jacket, he still smelt of Chuck.

Chuck's gaze moved over the planes of her face once he felt her breathing deepen. He hadn't held anyone this close in a long time - girls didn't lean on his chest. He hadn't held anyone's hand in eight years, and some part of him he'd never known had developped wanted to push her away. But instinct made him drag her closer - her and only her, purely because it was _Blair. _Like if he let her go for just a second he'd lose her again, she'd disappear. He lowered his chin against her hair and closed his own eyes. He wasn't letting her go. Not ever.

* * *

><p><strong>AN - First of all, thank you very much for all your wonderful reviews - seriously, they were so lovely to read, and I'm so glad you enjoyed the last chapter! Thank you also for all the well wishes :) I'm very sorry for taking so long to get the next chapter up, things have been hectic. I hope it's not too talky with all the explaining of what happened heh. Also, I wanted a good Chair reunion, where obviously the most important thing is that they found each other again - but those 8 years they spent apart are not going to have no impact. They will be catching up with them...**

**A quick show rant (ok. more like an essay...oops) : so, I _only_ watched the Dair scenes for the latest episode. Figured I'd get the worst out of the way. And I have to say...it wasn't that bad. Seeing Dan and Blair together doesn't turn my stomach, and watching them as drinking buddies with hilarious sex (drunk Blair, people!) is more what I wanted when I enjoyed Dair in season 4. What turns my stomach is Blair acting like she adores Dan, out of nowhere, and is a better person for it - and Dan's self-righteous smugness at 'saving' her (changing her) into a 'good' (weak) person. Call it lack of storyline or the acting, but I just can't buy for a second that Blair feels as strongly about Dan as she does Serena or Chuck. I just...can't. Anyway - that didn't happen last episode, so I'm grateful. Blair looked gorgeous again (hopefully we're done with those damn fascinators for good) and she was acting a bit more like herself without the whining or breathy baby voice or admiration for the dead poodle on Dan's head.**

**I've seen a lot of outrage from Chair fans about the elevator scene, plus gloating from Dair fans who claim that it rivalled the limo scene. I think the elevator scene WAS hot, same way that Nate's scenes with his cougars were hot, and Serenate and Danessa scenes in S3 were hot. (Ok...maybe not Danessa. Sorry, Vanessa). I'd be lying if I said that Dan and Blair didn't have any chemistry, and the whole lifting her up against the wall was great. And the reason I can say this is because...rivals the limo scene? I don't even think the show was trying to go there. It happened mid-episode, with no music playing, and from what I remember, mainly shots of her dress being unzipped. Now even if you say that Chuck and Blair have no chemistry and are disgusting together...The limo scene was still the climax/finale of an episode that turned hundreds of people overnight into Chair fans. The projector burned out at the end. The song. (I don't want this moment to ever end/ where everything's nothing without you/ I want you to know with everything I won't let this go). The beautiful camera work. The expression on Chuck's face. The fact that it got replayed next episode. It was on all the promo posters. It's not even about it being epic, it's iconic. I actually heard about Gossip Girl before I saw it, but due to crappy scheduling in the UK only tuned in for half of 1x03 and didn't really understand what was going on. I then just caught the end of 1x07, had no idea who the characters were and couldn't stop thinking about it. I didn't watch another episode until 1x13, and was so excited to see that storyline again. I then forgot about Gossip Girl (this was before I discovered internet streaming) - and a few months later, someone used the Chair 1x07 clip in a presentation. (Something about oversexing in American TV...the only bit I remember was the Chair scene lol). That scene alone is what made me work out how to stream episodes and watch all of season 1 pretty much in one sitting. So...the Dair scene. Yeah, Dair shippers are gonna be over the moon. But are you telling me that one scene will ever have that much impact? Are you telling me it was that beautiful? It just spelt out for me that Dair can be great in their own right (if you ignore Chair/Derena/Blairena and when the focus is on their awkward hilarity rather than Dan pushing everyone else away to be her emotional crutch) - but can't ever compare to Chair. Simple as. To me it felt like a bit of a bone for the Dair fans. And I get all the Josh Safran hate with his awful interviews and the absolute disaster of that episode before the hiatus...but I don't think 5x18 adds to that.**

**I've also seen the Dair elevator scene compared to Chair's piano scene. Again, even if you argue that Chuck and Blair aren't remotely sexy together, that scene still closed the episode with another fantastic song - like it was the crux of the episode rather than the B-plot that Dair felt like in 5x18. Obviously if you're a Dair fan, then their scenes were the most important anyway - but if you look at the way the episode was set up, they weren't central. Last episode gave me hope that maybe Dair aren't being pushed by the show as 'epic' or endgame.**

**I'm waiting till the season finale, since Safran reckons that's when the triangle will end. But till then, I'm maintaining the idea that Dair will have the same fate as Nair 2, Serenate, and Danessa. I mean, all of Gossip Girl's dialogue for those last two couples led us to believe that they were inevitable and finally happening. And they lasted...a few episodes? So: have hope, Chair fans. We won't know till the finale just whether or not this show is ruined for good. I remember a lot of fury over Nair 2 at the time, but looking back on it, it now seems necessary. Don't get me wrong, I don't think this destruction of Blair's character/ trampling all over Serena / refusal to give Chuck even one happy scene / mistreatment of the miscarriage story / awful wedding - has been in any way necesary. But maybe Dair does just need to happen on the way to Chair.**

**And yes, the finale could well prove all this wrong and it might turn out that the writers really are that retarded. But until then, I think we should wait. So...sorry for this very long A/N, I just wanted to spread some Chair hope as there doesn't seem to be much going round!**

**Thanks again for the reviews :) I'll try not to be so slow with the next chapter!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N - I just want to apologise for the A/N in the previous chapter. Considering the state of the show at the moment, on reflection it possibly wasn't the best idea to start describing Dair sex for all us poor Chair fans who are trying to avoid/pretend that it's not happening. I promise, I did intend for it to be positive - I tend to prefer facing up to what scares (ie sickens) me heh, and all I meant in that A/N was that I have a little more hope that maybe, just maybe, there's an end goal in sight and the show hasn't been completely destroyed. But in future I promise, any mentions of Dair - and particuarly their sex - will come with a warning! Or not be included at all. Thank you so much for all your reviews :) **

* * *

><p>Sunlight streamed through the glassless frame of a window, onto two sleeping bodies curled around each other. Blair stirred in her sleep as awareness sank in and that feeling caught in her throat again. It caught her every time she woke up - the need to reach for a body and the jolt that it was there. That he was there. She'd fallen asleep on his arm last night, and wasn't entirely sure how they'd ended up tangled together on the floor. Chuck's body now was harder and larger against hers than she remembered, his legs, entwined with hers, longer. Again it hit her, suddenly, that she was sleeping on a man's chest and not a boy's. She lifted her head a fraction to look at his face, eyes moving over the features she knew so well. Her fingers still ran lightly over his cheek as she watched him breathe. Then his eyes opened, dark dark puplils framed in rich hazel irises that swallowed her through a haze of sleep.<p>

He shifted and she realised for the first time that her thigh was trapped in between his legs and her waist nestled against his hardness. For some reason it made her pause, confused at the sudden sensation, as she gazed down at him. Chuck's hand slid over her hip without thinking, enjoying the curve of her body and her heat, only wanting to pull her closer.

Then her eyes locked with his and he realised something else - realised just what he was doing and who he was doing it to. He stopped. His body cried out at the loss of contact as he sat up, slowly.

They watched each other in silence because neither of them quite trusted themselves to speak. Today was the day. And considering how much she wanted this revenge, Blair didn't understand the urge to push Chuck back down and crawl into his arms, feel his heat and never leave.

But they had a plan to carry out.

* * *

><p>Blair tilted her head as she gazed into the cracked mirror. Just like she'd studied her reflection over and over in Brooklyn, checking that she fit the required image perfectly, that her dress did exactly what she wanted with her figure and she was perfect for the next role. Innocent and chaste or alluring and confident, ruthless or vulnerable, clueless or intelligent - anything William had wanted her to be. Anything she'd needed to be.<p>

She was good at this.

But as she stared at her reflection now, almost unrecognisable, she realised the past two days were the first time in eight years that she hadn't been playing at being anyone. That she'd just...been. Too busy trying to get used to the fact that Chuck was suddenly there, to studying and watching his every move, unable to get enough, that she'd barely spared a thought for herself.

"It worked." Serena bit her lip as she looked at the same reflection.

Blair carefully ran a hand through her hair. "It did."

She couldn't resist a faint smile despite herself, and neither could Serena. Blair slid a pair of glasses over her eyes to complete the transformation and Serena did the same. The girl in the mirror was virtually unrecognisable and she found herself wondering, for the first time, what Chuck would make of it. She'd gladly taken on any persona in Brooklyn, anything easier than being herself - a person she'd barely known any more anyway - but she'd never had to act in front of someone who'd actually known who she was. Never in front of Chuck.

And for some reason, that unsettled her.

* * *

><p>"So...what exactly is the Underground like?"<p>

The three guys were waiting on the ground floor of the Empire State building, packs slung over their shoulders ready to go. Blair and Serena were still in what had once been the bathrooms.

Chuck spared Nate a glance at his question. The blond boy had spent the past couple of days avoiding and, very unsubtly, studying him. He wasn't used to ever being awkward, but he didn't quite seem to know how to act around Chuck. Or Blair. And since Blair had spent the whole time with Chuck anyway, he'd stuck to Serena. The room had started to feel a little claustrophobic - some kind of tension that Nate wasn't sure he wanted to understand - and he was relieved they were leaving.

"It's different," Chuck muttered now, drily.

"Different as in you have electricity?" Carter enquired. Out of all of them he was the only one who couldn't wait to get there. Plans notwithstanding, he fully intended on milking the place for every drop he could get.

Chuck was saved from answering when the warped bathroom door swung open and two scantily-clad blondes came out. Nate did a slight double take as Serena grinned, triumphant. She'd been the one to salvage the hair dye from an old beauty salon.

The girl that now stood before them had sleek blonde hair and wore a pair of dark glasses that covered her face. The blood-stained shirt was gone, replaced with a cropped tank top and her leather pants. Nate blinked at the flat curve of her bare midriff, the material taut against her breasts. It took him a moment to remember that he was looking at Blair.

Serena smirked and he couldn't help but smile, bemused, back. And then Serena was taking up a bit too much of his attention anyway - she'd changed into one of his own shirts and just that, buttoned low and revealing an endless stretch of brown legs. They made quite a pair. (The girls, Nate reminded himself. Not Serena's legs or a certain other pair that the shirt outlined far too well).

"I meant to say, Blair-bear," Carter drawled. "Brooklyn definitely...did you some favours." He glanced idly at Chuck. "I quite like you all grown-up."

Chuck flicked him a dark look, but his insides were doing that thing again. He'd been so consumed with just having Blair _back _that the changes kept catching him unaware. Trying to reconcile the hateful lust he'd felt for the woman he hadn't known and the girl he knew better than he knew himself made him feel oddly sick. Jack had taught him to track the movement of a girl's hips, the curve of her chest or the fullness of her lips for his own gain. Sex meant less than nothing in the Underground – girls threw themselves at him because of his power, and he used them accordingly.

So he didn't _want _to feel those stirring of lust when he looked at Blair because they were tied, instinctively, with thoughts of destrution. With thoughts of nothing, of one hot body after the other and the knowledge that he was alone and she was never coming back. He couldn't place or understand them, and it wasn't just lust because it was _Blair _and drinking in her familiar feautures made his chest hurt anyway.

And now looking at her, for just a moment he didn't recognise her. For a moment she was just another hot body and the girl whose face he'd never seen, the girl he'd wanted to kill.

"Too bad staying here has left you gross as ever." Her tone was sweet, acidic, as she aimed it at Carter - and the illusion was gone. Chuck's lip curled as his eyes moved over her again. Blair. It was Blair. Every inch, from the perfet whorl of her belly button to the twist of her mouth. He felt her eyes on him through the glasses and for some reason it was hard to swallow and he had no idea whether it was lust or not anymore.

Carter just rolled his eyes. "Well, at least it's safe to say Jack won't recognise you for the filthy little street rat you used to be." Nate frowned at him even though something told him this Blair didn't need his defense. Carter caught himself enough to add, "Good work, Serena." Then the blond flashed a faint grin of admiration at her instead.

They'd explained to Nate that Blair needed to stay concealed in case Jack started accusing Brooklynites of kidnapping her. He hadn't been hard to convince. He was clear on his one goal, at least - change the guy's ideas about his family. He hadn't had a purpose in a while, beyond running away, and Blair was right. Nate's loyalty to his family would always come above and beyond everything else. Although he did fully intend on coming back to the city once he was done.

"We need to leave now if we want to get there before sunset." Chuck's tone was brusque as he dragged his eyes away from Blair. He led the way out without a glance back, eyes fixed on the street ahead. He felt her fall into his pace anyway.

It wasn't till they'd rounded the corner and Nate was preoccupied with some story Serena was telling that she paused and her fingers brushed his sleeve. Like she'd been about to grab it but stopped at the last moment. He still wasn't looking at her.

"I never knew you had such an aversion to blondes." She kept her tone light, quiet. But there was an edge of determination under it. He didn't get to ignore her.

His gaze finally slid to hers and his mouth turned in something between a smile and a grimace. His eyes burned dark. "I don't-"

"It's me." It was fierce. He paused as she laced her fingers, tight, through his. Her nails pressed into his hand and he could feel the heat of her own gaze. Her jaw was set.

He nodded because his words had somehow got stuck in his throat and he hated himself for it. He could only answer by gripping her hand a little tighter, mouth twitching. "I know," he murmured. He knew and that was the problem.

She held onto him for just a moment longer. She'd seen the expression on his face that she'd never seen before - she'd never seen lust in Chuck's eyes. That kind of want had always been something she could use. A hollow thrill of victory at how easy men were to control when they looked at her like that. Except they'd never really _looked _at her. And the want - the hunger and darkness and something else, something that confused her as much as it did him - that had been on Chuck's face as he looked at her, every part of her, had made it hard to breathe.

But this was _Chuck _and she wasn't losing him. She wasn't going to let anything come between them. Not again. Not ever. Not feelings that neither of them could fully comprehend - she wasn't going to let him act like a stranger.

His shoulders finally loosened, almost imperceptible, as he glanced at her again. "Let's get this over with."

She smiled at him, at the hardness that had crept back into his voice. The thirst for revenge that they both _knew_. "Jack doesn't stand a chance."

He smirked grimly in agreement.

But his stomach was still churning.

* * *

><p>The five of them drew to a stop as they reached a large building in faded cream, its large arched windows all long-shattered. Its roof was barely intact, its once ornate stone work chipped beyond recognition. The remains of a golden clock was fixed above their heads, a blind and broken-winged angel stretching handless arms into nothing.<p>

"Grand Central Terminal." Nate strained to read the peeling sign above them and then his eyes lit up a little. "Hey, we have one of those in Brooklyn."

"A knock-off," Carter assured him sardonically.

Chuck was already leading them round to the side for the subway entrance. The opening was hardly visible with all the rubble surrounding it. He paused at the top of the long flight of stairs; they stretched down into the darkness below. He felt Blair at his side, felt her fingers touch his and had to resist the sudden urge to grab them tight. Jack had functioning cameras at the entrance. Carter smirked and slid an arm around Blair instead, drawing her away from Chuck and against him. He caught Serena in the other arm. "Ready?" he enquired.

Blair gave Chuck the briefest of nods.

Chuck inhaled and then turned to start the descent down. They were ready.

* * *

><p>Jack got the message that his nephew was back before the boy reached him. Finally. He'd taken long enough. The guards at the entrance had informed him he'd had one Brooklynite with him - and three pieces of scum from the city that they'd de-weaponed and escorted themselves. Jack had seen them on the camera, the guards clearly enjoying themselves hassling the two blonde girls. Jack wouldn't mind enjoying them himself. But he was still pissed with Chuck. And where the hell was Damien?<p>

His office was door was thrust open. Chuck didn't bother knocking, of course. The guards waited outside with Nate and the Manhattanites while his newphew faced him.

"Well," Jack drawled. "Look who's back. I was beginning to think you were incapable. Did you get him or not?"

Chuck helped himself to some of the man's scotch, ignoring him till he'd had his fill. "He's here." His tone was curt.

"And?"

"He's prepared to listen, but I'd avoid mentioning his family. He still thinks he loves them."

Jack nodded in satisfaction. "So why did you take so long?"

"Complications," his nephew responded. "He befriended a guy from the city and refused to leave without him."

The man pulled a face. "The other guy outside?" Chuck nodded. "Fine," Jack murmured. "He can stay for now." He glanced at the footage of the blonde girls and smirked. "Nice of him to bring us a present."

Chuck said nothing.

"And where's Damien?" Jack enquired. His voice sounded casual, but there was something dangerous underneath it. Damien had been good. He'd had plans for him.

"He fell behind."

His uncle's expression darkened into a grimace. "Careless, Chuck."

Chuck just gave him a look. "I told you taking him was a stupid idea."

Jack took a bitter sip of his own drink. Russell wouldn't be pleased, and the last thing Jack needed was an angry second in command. "Well, you'd better find me a good replacement." Chuck just snorted. Jack set his glass down and turned away. "Show Archibald to the best rooms and keep an eye on him. Take him to Times Square tonight and show him a good time - I'll see him there."

Chuck turned to go. "And the people from the city?" It was thrown idly over his shoulder.

"Let his little buddy go with him," Jack sighed. His leer flickered to the grainy screen. "And bring the girls tonight." The problem with living underground was that after a while, there were only so many girls you could sleep with before you moved on to seconds and it all got a little repetetive.

He was going to have some fun tonight.

* * *

><p>Carter gazed round the room, the sharp edges of expensive glass, the deep red of velvet and black of rich leather lining very surface. Hell, he could get used to this. They even had hot running water.<p>

Serena was busy digging into the huge bowl of chocolate covered strawberries - fruit was something she'd never even tasted - as Nate tried not to watch the red juices coat her lips, the chocolate sliding into her mouth and her little moans of happiness. She grinned at him and pushed a piece of fruit into his own mouth, making him laugh.

Carter barely suppressed a noise of disgust.

Blair, watching, did the same from her place on the sofa. She was curled in silence as Carter caught her eye. Chuck had gone to his own rooms - him staying would have been suspicious. Blair already felt uneasy just not knowing where he was. Just not being able to see him. She kept reminding herself that she had to focus on the goal. (But still she had to fight the urge not to hunt him down and refuse to let him out of her sight).

Carter dropped down next to her under the pretence of reaching for the champagne. Actually, he did help himself to a glass - but he was disappointed to discover that it was no better than the stuff he'd raided himself from various abandoned liquor cabinets in Manhattan. "What's wrong?" he mocked now so only she could hear. "Missing Chuck?" He slid his hand to her thigh - she gave him an icy glare and he smirked. "Just playing along for the cameras." He was pretty sure Chuck would see.

"What are you up to, Baizen?" she murmured back.

He just grinned. "Your lack of trust hurts. Who says I'm up to anything?" She gave his hand, still on her leg, a withering look. He shrugged. "Maybe Chuck's not the only one who's realised how hot you are now."

She scoffed in answer. But he knew he'd got to her - the idea of Chuck thinking she was hot. They didn't know how to charter this territory, which was exactly what he'd wanted. He preferred them occupied and confused. Blair narrowed her eyes at him. "Whatever you're planning - don't."

Carter grinned again. He did enjoy playing with people worthy of his time. He'd missed Chuck and Blair. In his own way. His grin vanished when his glass ended up upended on his pants.

"Oops."

Blair pushed his hand off her and stood up, disappearing into the conjoining room without a backwards glance. Carter shook his head. Well, at least he didn't have to drink the shitty champagne now.

* * *

><p>Blair was enjoying hot water for the first time in far too many days, careful not to get her hair wet as she washed. Chuck would be here soon to take them to Times Square. Where she'd see Jack, and she'd finally get to make her move. She stepped out of the shower now and wound a fluffy black towel around her just as there was a knock at the door.<p>

She swore to God, if it was Carter trying to stir up trouble again -

She snapped the door open and then temporarily lost the ability to breathe as she was met with a pair of golden eyes. Not Carter. She had to fight back the urge to grab him, relieved that he was here and she could see and smell him again, almost touch him. She only just restrained herself as she drank in the expensive suit he now wore, his black hair now combed and slicked and the scent of aftershave on his skin. He regarded her back - and then she realised that she was naked underneath her towel and his eyes had tracked the water droplets clinging to her collar bone.

There was a moment of silence as they both stared at each other.

"Oh," Carter's voice rang out. "Sorry. Guess it wasn't Nate in the shower after all."

He was met with two mutinous glares.

And then Nate and Serena emerged from the other room, giggling over the strawberries they were still eating. Nate came to a stop as he noticed Chuck and Blair, looking between them in confusion. "Uh...what's going on?"

Chuck pulled his eyes away from Blair. "What's going on," he forced, "Is that you're not dressed yet and we need to leave."

"Oh, right," Nate remembered. "The party."

They didn't have any nightclubs in Brooklyn - not like the ones here - so party had been the closest Chuck could get him to understand. But he suspected the blond was in for a shock.

He turned away from the sight of Blair's bare skin and the urge to catch the waterdrop in the hollow of her throat with his tongue. "There should be clothes in the closet." He'd seen her wet before, for Christ's sake, seen her in less. He'd never had the senseless need to run his hands along her skin to see if she felt as silky as she looked - he knew she did, anyway - and not looking at her was killing him even more, knowing she was standing behind him - he wanted to touch her and know it really was her, because even a few hours separation had made him start panicking that he'd lose her again.

"Ok," Serena attempted to cut the tension. "So, we'll just get dressed..."

"Want to stay and watch?" Carter asked Chuck innocently. He was ignored as Chuck walked out. Blair watched him go in silence. She wanted to run after him, to pull him back to her and hold onto him. But she was still in her towel and there were cameras. And that expression in his eyes had thrown her again, almost scared her. So she turned back into the bathroom and tried to ignore the flush creeping up her damp skin.

* * *

><p>Chuck's gaze moved straight to Blair when they finally came out of the room, unable to stop himself. (For someone not used to having a choice in clothes, Serena had taken a ridiculously long time choosing. Blair could've sworn she'd tried on everything in the closet at least twice, and got equally excited over every single dress).<p>

Blair wore a tiny black dress now, a tight top and a short, slitted skirt. Her golden hair fell in wild, glossy waves. She was dressed almost exactly like every girl would be tonight and it made Chuck's throat constrict. It was too surreal. Too unsettling. He'd separated her from this world so completely that seeing her suddenly in it - seeing the Chuck that he'd become - made his insides twist even more.

Carter saw and Carter smirked. He went to pull Blair to him again - and Chuck had had enough. His hand was suddenly on the small of her back, pushing her ahead of him and away from Carter. She could feel the angry heat of his fingers - and she was reminded of the hand that had shoved her down the stairs of the Empire State building, determined to kill her. She was reminded of the man she'd been so desperate to kill herself - and then of the knife and his blood and _Chuck, _bleeding in her arms. She stopped deliberately. She would not lose him again. She gave him a single look and refused to move till he looked back.

And she saw it, saw the boy she knew return as he gazed at her. His eyes were as wild and black as she'd always known. He swallowed, hard.

_It's me. _

He breathed out. His fingers brushed the back of her dress. They moved on in silence, but some of the tightness in his chest - in hers too - had eased, just a little.

He wasn't losing her. No matter what. He wasn't losing her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN - Please don't kill me for making Blair blonde? She'll be going back to brunette later, don't worry. Also, I know Chuck seems to be having a harder time of it at the moment, but it's only because Blair is in the world he got used to without her and not the other way round. Chuck hasn't been to Brooklyn...yet. **


	13. Chapter 13

Sorry sorry sorry - this isn't a new chapter! I just wanted to apologise for not updating for so long, my family flew out to surprise me so I've spent the past week by the beach with them...and now that I'm back, the stupid charger for my laptop isn't working and I can't get to the half-finished chapter I had saved! Plus I just found out a new charger will cost me $95, so I'm attempting to find someone to borrow from...I promise, as soon as it's sorted, there are updates for both In This City and Homecoming on the way! Thank you so much for all your reviews and patience - and sorry again :)


	14. Chapter 14

Times Square had been built into the area where the old subway station used to be, but its only remnant was a faded sign still bearing the name. The cavernous space was now plunged in darkness, lit only with flashing lights that distorted the mass of seething bodies on the floor. Leather and velvet chairs were scattered about, bars lining the brick tiled walls and alcohol flowing everywhere. Liquor and spirits, though, were the softest substances available in the club. Pills slipped easily between lips, powder snorted from every shiny surface. Chuck glanced briefly at his uncle's concealed booth. Jack was no doubt there, but he'd only summon Chuck when he wanted him.

This was where the people of the Underground came to let loose. Men and women grinding against each other, bare skin against bare skin, barely dressed and barely with it. Pounding music saturated the space and made conversation almost impossible. Not that anyone here wanted to waste time talking – the very reason Chuck ended up going most nights.

Nate stared, overwhelmed, while Carter reached the decision that the Underground was definitely somewhere he could get used to.

Serena just blinked.

And Blair -

The flickering lights across her face made it impossible to read as she took the place in. She caught Chuck's eye. Her lip curved, tight. His gaze was so dark that she wanted to catch his hand again. Pull him back. She moved a fraction closer – and then a body slid in between them.

"Well, look who's finally home. Captain." The girl was tall and beautiful with dark, glossy skin and sleek black hair. She wore a tight orange dress and her hands moved straight to Chuck's chest, playful. He'd slept with Raina a couple of times because she was Russell's daughter and he knew how much it would piss off Jack. Because she was good in bed and she liked winding her father up too. "Save me a dance?" She smirked over her shoulder as she disappeared again into the crowd.

Blair's face was still unreadable.

Carter curled his lip to himself as he glanced between the two of them. Hell, at this rate he wouldn't even have to push.

* * *

><p>Nate eyed the shots that Chuck had lined up on their table. He'd only ever drank wine or port before – brandy at a push. Humphreys and Abrams favoured beer, but there was no vodka in Brooklyn. And definitely no tequila. No shot glasses, either. Just solid crystal.<p>

"Uh..."

Serena laughed and gave him a little nudge. "On three?" She was always willing to try new things. He grinned and they raised a glass at the same time. "Oh God," she spluttered once she'd swallowed, giggling, "That's terrible!"

"It really is," Nate choked, unable to stop his own laughter as they both tossed the shots down.

Carter repressed an eye-roll and helped himself. It was becoming clear that the Underground got _all _its alcohol from the city. He'd have to get his entertainment elsewhere. "Let's dance." He was already dragging Blair to the floor, delightfully aware of Chuck watching. Serena and Nate were more than happy to follow. Blair pushed him off before he could think about grinding up against her. She'd seen his smirk.

She ended up dancing with Serena instead, aware that this was exactly what Jack needed to see. Two blondes having fun. She and Chuck had planned this – and still Chuck couldn't stop his eyes burning into her, the way her body writhed against the other girl's and her bare arms, the curl of her hips and her hair spilling down her uncovered shoulders. He hadn't planned for _this._ The lights against her skin made her almost unrecognisable.

Her gaze met his. Her brown eyes. And it seared her again, the hunger and unmistakeable lust, the actual pain on his face. It was more than lust and that scared her. But what scared her more was how much she ached to respond to that want. To press her body against his. To touch his chest like that girl had – but to hold on.

Carter was already lining up the tequila. He'd taken note of how they drank it here. "Salt," he murmured wickedly to Blair as he caught her again. He sprinkled the white grains on his wrist and then against hers, watching between hooded, taunting eyes as he raised his arm to his mouth and sucked. Her own eyes narrowed at him. Serena was happily pouring salt onto her and Nate's arms, following suit. They ended up licking off each other's as the alcohol flooded their systems, laughing under the music. Blair ignored Carter. She lifted her wrist to her lips. She could feel Chuck's gaze still on her; she turned her head just a little as she licked her skin, and half froze at the expression on his face. She turned away, quickly, and grabbed her shot. It burned her throat. Carter had already slipped the lemon wedge into her hand. Her teeth sank into its flesh, lips closing over the yellow skin as she swallowed.

Chuck was disturbed to find that he couldn't drag his stare away from her lips or the fruit, disturbed by the way his stomach still churned. Disturbed by just how much he yearned to see if she tasted of lemon now. Carter moved in as though he'd read his thoughts. He caught Blair's lips with his own, and the sight of another man's mouth on her made Chuck all the more desperate to kiss her, even as it turned his stomach.

Carter felt the point of a knife press, hidden, against his ribs. He neatly pulled his lips away as Blair flicked the weapon back out of sight. "I'm warning you, Baizen." Her voice was icy. He smirked again but backed off.

She resumed dancing with Serena and struggled not to look at Chuck.

Carter ran his tongue over his top lip as he came to stand next to him. Chuck, of course, was still watching her. "Hm," he murmured out the side of his mouth. "Who knew something so sharp could taste so good?" His eyes trailed Blair's figure deliberately as he felt Chuck's jaw clench next to him. "You know, I think lemon might be my new favourite fruit."

Chuck's mouth twisted savagely and he said nothing, eyes still on Blair. Carter smirked in the face of that black glower before returning to the dance floor in search of more trouble.

* * *

><p>Chuck saw Russell leaving Jack's booth, saw the nod the man passed him across the crowded room. Jack was ready to see them.<p>

"Nate." He clapped the guy on the back. "How would you like to meet my uncle?"

Even clouded with alcohol, the blond's blue eyes brightened. This was, after all, what he'd been waiting for; and tequila always made ideas seem that much better. He and Serena were practically leaning on each other as they followed Chuck to the back of the room, Carter and Blair bringing up the rear. Chuck sent a single glance in Blair's direction – her gaze burned back. And then they were finally facing Jack.

His uncle's booth was curved away from the rest of the club, the deepest of velvet seats that Jack was now sprawled quite comfortably in. Bodyguards flanked either side, and a half-dressed girl slipped away as the five of them entered. Blair looked at the man before her. He'd aged only a little, his hair thicker than it had been before and a slick beard covering his face. That nasty smirk was still in place, his suit lazily creased and his eyes gleaming.

They rested for a moment on her, and Blair had to remind herself that there was no way he could have recognised her. And sure enough, his gaze stayed longer on the bare skin of her body than her face - and then it was already turning to Serena. He licked his lips and Blair suddenly remembered a hand on her arm and felt sick.

Jack was smiling at Nate now. "Mr. Archibald. I hope you're enjoying yourself."

Blair could tell that being called his father's name threw him a little, but he smiled anyway. Nate always smiled. "Thank you, sir. I really appreciate-"

Jack waved a hand, cutting him off. "No need to thank me. You're welcome to stay here as long as you want. Any friend of Chuck's is a friend of mine." He grinned at his nephew and Blair wished she could shoot him there and then. "Isn't that right?"

Chuck nodded coldly.

"I'm grateful," Nate assured him. "And if there's anything I can do-"

"I'll let you know," Jack laughed. Nate had no idea just how much he meant it. "You should get back to enjoying your night," he added. "I won't keep you." Nate smiled again and went to take Serena's hand. "But I'd like a word with your little friends," Jack put in, stopping him. "It's not often I see people from Manhattan."

Nate looked distinctly unhappy as he realised who Jack meant.

"I think Serena owed Nate a dance," Carter drawled. "Probably a bad idea to separate them." He gave Serena a pointed look. She was already tugging Nate away. Jack looked vaguely irritated as he realised that he had no choice but to let them go – he needed to keep up the friendly facade with Nate. He didn't appreciate city scum telling him what to do, either, he reflected as he spared Carter a glance. The boy looked far too cocky for his liking.

Still, there was the other blonde...

"Why don't you take a seat," he grinned at Blair. "We can get to know each other." He gestured idly to the spot at his side.

Carter had already dropped into the seat opposite him as he gave Blair a nod. "You've been a good host," he told Jack. "I'm happy to share."

"But you're not my guest," Jack answered silkily. "If you want to stay here, I expect payment." His eyes lingered on Blair's legs, the curve of her breasts as he motioned the space next to him once more. She sat and Chuck slid in next to her. She let her thigh press against his rather than his scaly uncle's, and it both reassured her and unsettled her stomach further.

Jack's leer was making her feel nauseous, but Chuck's heat on her other side was making her head spin. She needed to focus. Jack didn't know who she was and she had to get his attention. But it was still hard not to press further into Chuck and further away from Jack as the man's hand reached for her thigh.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

A woman had entered the booth. She was closer to Jack's age than Chuck's, tall and beautiful with an oddly blank face and long, curling brown hair.

"Elle." Jack smirked.

She'd already crossed the space and draped herself between Chuck and Blair, smoothly separating them and forcing Blair closer to Jack. Her long, bare legs splayed over the leather as she turned to Jack. But Blair hadn't missed the languorous smile she'd sent in Chuck's direction first.

"So," she murmured as her fingers ran over Blair's bare back. "Who's this?" She rubbed at the smaller girl's skin. "Is she here to play?"

Jack's mouth curved into his beard as his hand settled on Blair's thigh, tugging her closer. "I hope so." Blair fought the urge to cut his groping fingers off and smiled up into his face. She needed to do this. Needed to get as close as possible She smiled even as his aftershave hit her, as Elle caught the straps of her dress. She hoped he was still leering when she killed him.

There was something burning inside of Chuck. Something hot and dark and furious. Something that scorched his insides and twisted them backwards, twisted them like he ached to twist Jack's hands off her. Twist Jack's neck.

The man's hand had slipped up her skirt and he couldn't take it any more.

"Jack."

His voice was little more than a snarl, and Blair shot him a warning look. He couldn't mess up the plan now. And for a moment, the blackness in his eyes made her forget the feel of Jack's slimy hand.

Then Elle was trying to tug her upwards, motioning to Jack that they should take this elsewhere.

Seeing Elle touch her made Chuck feel just as sick – Elle, though, he could do something about. He pulled her round and kissed her, pulling her off Blair. And Blair stared. Chuck's hands were running over the woman's body, holding her in place, and she could see the way his jaw moved as he -

Kissed her.

It was doing something odd to Blair's insides. She jerked her head away and Carter caught her eye. His grin was slight in the darkness. She ignored it.

"Looks like it's just us, then," Jack murmured in her ear. She reminded herself to focus and climbed neatly into his lap. His hands went to her waist and she managed not to retch as she smiled down at him. Chuck could taste cheap champagne on Elle's breath, smell her cloying perfume, and see Jack holding Blair.

Carter was enjoying watching them both squirm. Such a mess. Chuck sent him a cold glare over Elle's shoulder and he simply smirked back. Then finally, rolling his eyes, he stood and pulled Blair off Jack. "I think we need a drink." As planned.

He tugged her out of the other man's grasp and away from the booth, leaving Jack's lustful stare on her departing figure. He definitely wanted her now.

Chuck shoved Elle of him and got to his own feet.

"Get him out of the way," Jack said coolly, licking his lips again. He was looking at Carter's retreating back as he addressed his nephew. "I don't want him interfering with anything else."

Chuck walked out.

* * *

><p>The surface of the bar was cool under Blair's bare arms as she sensed Chuck rejoin them. She couldn't quite look at him. Jack made her feel as sick and dirty as he had eight years ago, with just a touch, but it wasn't that. She was used to flirting, used to leaning in and playing to get their attention – she'd gone far further with Tripp, even with Nate, further with William's rival (and she'd filmed that too, just for blackmail) – but never with Chuck watching. Never with Chuck knowing what she'd become. But it wasn't that either. It was that she wanted – she wanted his lips on hers. She'd seen the way he'd held Elle, seen his hands on her skin, and -<p>

And it scared her. And she'd never wanted, more, to grab him and hold him so he wouldn't go. She watched as he downed a glass of something, and she wished he'd look at her instead so she knew she wasn't losing him. So those unfamiliar stirrings could disappear and he'd be Chuck again. Or did she want him to be less Chuck so that she could crash her lips into his and lose herself?

"Captain." It was a purr that set her teeth on edge – Raina was back. Blair watched her take the stool next to Chuck, watched her hand slip over his, and barely restrained herself from shoving the other girl off.

"I wonder how many times they've slept together. She looks like she'd be pretty good in bed." Carter was leaning next to her with that ever-present smirk, his voice low under the music.

"Why don't you go find out?" Blair bit back.

"I would," Carter laughed, "But it looks like Chuck's having too much fun."

Serena had stopped to get another drink – and that comment, she heard. Her eyes followed theirs to where Chuck was patently ignoring Raina. Carter was such an asshole sometimes.

"Blair." She smiled and twined her hand through the other girl's, pausing only to glare at Carter. "Come with me to the bathroom?" She was already pulling her along. Blair had been right – the blonde was annoyingly strong. She was too busy forcing her eyes away from Chuck to fight back.

But she ignored the other girl once they reached the relative quiet of the bathroom, fixed her eyes on the mirror and pulled out her lipgloss. A perfect red shine to coat her lips, perfectly untouched and perfectly unkissed. The face that regarded her back was unknown, framed in blonde hair and cool dark eyes. Unknown and still too familiar.

"You know," Serena was at her side, running her fingers through her own tangled golden locks. They looked better on her than they ever would Blair. She'd been watching Blair as she put the lipgloss on - make-up was something she'd never learnt to apply. "The way Chuck looks at that girl is nothing like the way he looks at you."

Blair stiffened. She knew that. That wasn't what was eating up her insides. The girl - Raina, Elle, whatever her name was - they were nothing. Chuck had slept with them. Chuck's mouth and Chuck's hands - what eas eating up her insides was the knowledge that she wanted them on _her._ Sex meant nothing. So why did the thought of sex with _Chuck -_

One of the cubicle doors swung open and Elle stalked out. She spared the two girls a dismissive look as she took her own place by the mirror. Her lipstick was deep red to match her tight dress as she pouted into the glass. "You're welcome to throw yourself at Jack," she gave Blair a condescending smile, "If you think it's going to get you a leg up. But I wouldn't bother with Chuck. I taught him everything he knows - he doesn't waste time with little girls."

Blair simply arched a brow. "I wasn't aware he wasted his time with middle-aged cougars either." Her tone was cool and sweet. "Don't you think you're a little old for him?"

Elle's lip curled.

"Why don't you go play with someone your own age?" Serena suggested. "I'm sure Jack's waiting for you."

The woman flounced out with a withering look, and Blair found herself exchanging the faintest of smirks with the blonde at her side. Serena's mouth twitched back a little.

* * *

><p>"Does it bother you at all?" Carter enquired as he took the stool next to Chuck. Raina had already sensed Chuck's lack of interest and slipped away to find better company for the night. "Watching Blair and your...uncle?"<p>

Chuck just rolled his eyes. "Stop talking, Baizen."

Carter smirked into his drink. "I have to say that she played the part well. She's clearly well-practiced at this." He cocked his head at the other guy. "Makes you wonder who she practiced with in Brooklyn." His gaze had slid to Nate. Nate, who seemed a little confused by the three girls gyrating against him.

The scotch burned Chuck's throat. "That's not the only thing she's well practiced at," he answered drily. "I'd advise keeping your hands to yourself next time." He'd seen the knife.

"Jealousy doesn't look good on you," Carter sighed back.

"Jack wants you out of the way." Chuck's tone was like ice. "Give me a reason why I shouldn't do it now."

Carter simply grinned and swallowed his own mouthful of drink. "Things would be a little boring, don't you think? Besides," he added, "You need me in the way. Who else is going to keep her out of your uncle's bed? You do want her to stop before then, right?"

Chuck's eyes narrowed dangerously. The thought made bile rush to his throat with the scotch - but they weren't going that far. Blair only had to get close enough to get a clear shot at him. Still just seeing his uncle leer at her - at her, knowing that he'd known she was alive the whole time - made him feel even sicker. And jealousy burned underneath it all. Even though he'd known she was playing a part, even though he'd known she hated Jack just as much as he did. Jealousy at the sight of her on someone else's lap. At the thought of her lips - _  
><em>

Carter had kissed her. Carter knew what she tasted like. How could Chuck know Blair as well as he did and not know what she tasted like?

Carter was saved his retort when Blair and Serena reappeared. Chuck's eyes fell on her lips. The fresh coat of gloss that he suddenly longed to kiss away. Her dark eyes burnt his. He turned his face away and downed another shot.

* * *

><p>By the end of the night, Blair was thoroughly miserable and thoroughly furious. She'd spent the whole time dancing with Serena - it had felt good, the way her feet ached and the aclohol sung through her veins, curling to the music and the knowledge that Jack was watching and getting closer and closer to where they wanted him. Good and empty. Meaningless music and black gold eyes that made hot, futile desire curl inside of her. She was furious with that desire. And miserable because the more she danced, the more it felt like he was slipping away. The harder she danced, the harder he ignored her. Why couldn't things go back to the way they'd used to be? He didn't get to ignore her and she was furious with him for it. But she'd ignored him too, everytime a girl approached and she found herself picturing the things he'd done to whoever it was. Found herself wishing he'd do the same to her.<p>

She hated him. And she couldn't hate him because it was _Chuck. _She was Chuck and Chuck was her, so if she hated him then she hated herself. She did hate herself. He was slipping away and she couldn't let him. If she lost him then she'd lose herself all over again.

Nate and Serena were supporting each other as they stumbled out of the club, giggling drunkenly. Blair was drunk too. Drunk on hatred and want and a blind yearning - except she didn't have Chuck to lean on. Didn't have Chuck to catch her hand. Chuck followed behind in silence. She wanted to turn and slam him into the wall till he looked at her. Till he touched her. Till she had his mouth caught in hers -

She stopped outside her room and turned. Serena and Nate had already disappeared inside so that it was just the two of them.

Chuck's expression was shuttered.

But it was his eyes that caught her, that drank her in and made her freeze. She wanted to close the distance once and for all.

He turned away.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Her voice stuck as she stared at him. At his rigid back. "Good night," she forced at last. She didn't want to spend the night apart from him. She_ needed_ to have him close. But something stopped her, that churning that made her turn for herself and shut the door on him. She closed her eyes as she leaned on the frame, arm curving over her unsettled stomach. He was just on the other side. And she could hear him walk away.

The door opened and she spun, heart jolting to her throat -

Carter's eyebrows raised as he slid into the room. "Expecting someone?" he enquired. The corridor was empty behind him. Of course.

She gave him a contempuous look before spinning and slamming the door of the separated bedroom behind her. She ignored Carter's chuckle through the wood and yanked her dress off. Her body was tingling as she forced herself to lie down on the bed, cold and soft under her spine. Empty.

She stared up at the ceiling, breathing shallow, and knew she'd never get to sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN - Apologies again for the false hope last chapter, and how long this has taken...thanks to Saraneth for your suggestion, sadly I'm in Jordan and Amazon doesn't deliver here :( BUT I did spend a long time trawling through the souk downtown and managed to barter a charger down to like $20. So here's hoping it doesn't explode or something. Thanks for waiting so patiently, and for all your reviews! Next chapter should be up super fast :) **


	15. Chapter 15

Her eyes were still glued to the blank ceiling an hour later and her body still tingling in the empty bed. She'd spent too many nights without him. Too many nights thinking he was gone - and he wasn't. He wasn't gone. He was _here,_ just a few minutes walk away. How could she not be with him? How could she feel like she was _losing _him?

Enough.

Enough, she decided. She was going to stop this once and for all.

* * *

><p>He was seated at the bar in his room, hand clenched over a glass of scotch as he focused on its amber depths and battled the urge to go to her. He just wanted to see her. Just look at her before he fell asleep – just know that she'd be there when he woke up. He didn't think he could stand the idea of a night without her. But thoughts of her body, pressed against Serena's, her head arched back and her lips on that tequila glass, that lemon, her skin under the flashing lights...They kept invading his mind, taunting him and pushing him closer and closer to the edge.<p>

He raised his glass ready to down the burning liquid, drive it all out, when the handle of his door turned. He turned and his breath stuck in his throat, glass frozen halfway between his lips.

Blair stood in the frame.

She closed the door silently behind her. His mouth was painfully dry, his thoughts roiling as he took in the fact that she wore just her tank top and a pair of panties. The bare slenderness of her thighs, the curve of her stomach and her hair pulled into a ponytail that brushed the nape of her neck, her bare shoulders. Her eyes were wide and dark. Desire coiled, hot, inside him and he hated himself for it – desire and a churning in his stomach and an ache in his chest that threatened to consume him.

"Blair."

He saw something flicker in her eyes at the low, trapped sound of her name – and she approached him. She moved over until she was right in front of him at the bar, gazing up at him.

"What are you doing here?"

She swallowed. "There are no cameras in this room, right?"

He jerked his head in acknowledgement.

Her fingers curled around the glass that he still held, brushing his as she tugged it away. She recognised the smell of the drink – there was only wine in Brooklyn, but she still remembered how ill they'd both been on the liquor they'd tried in Manhattan, all those years ago – and her mouth twisted a little because it didn't make Chuck ill any more. He watched as she raised it to her own lips, trembling as the searing liquid slipped down her throat and her eyes closed for a moment. He fought to keep his breathing steady. To breathe at all.

"What are you doing here?" he repeated, rough.

She set the glass down. She could smell the drink on his breath too, the heady scent engulfing her. Its taste lingered still on her lips and she wondered if it did on his.

She touched his jaw.

His skin was hot under her fingers, his gaze burning into her.

Slowly, her hand slid up to bury into his hair and draw his head closer. Their noses were brushing now as her eyes shut and she touched her lips to his. His mouth was heated and hard as she kissed him. The lightest of kisses, just enough to taste him. He pulled his head away before her body could melt into his, but his hands had slid to her bare waist of their own accord – trying to pull her closer or steady himself, he wasn't sure which – and he had to struggle to breathe through his mouth as the scent of her overwhelmed him.

"Blair-"

It was almost a hiss as he stared down at her.

So she tightened her grip in his hair, pulling his head back down and fusing their lips together. She tasted so good that this time he responded, her mouth slipping open as his tongue entered her and his hands tightened on her hips. She bit down on his lip and he lost his last shred of control, something finally snapping inside him. He grabbed her, lifting her up onto the bar. His hands slid over her thighs as she lost herself in his kiss, and she could see the black hunger in his eyes, his fingers digging into the small of her back. Pulling her closer, desperate, and it still wasn't close enough for either of them. His hands moved over her body, greedily exploring her spine and the smooth skin of her waist, the firm curve of her breasts as he broke the kiss to bury his lips in her collarbone. She was small and tight and delicious under his touch. Her back arched in pleasure against the bar and her fingers seized the front of his shirt. Then she was pulling open the buttons and dragging it off his shoulders, her hands raking the planes of his bare chest and sliding over his shoulders to grip, tight, when his tongue found the sweet spot of her neck. Her fingernails were sharp against his nape. He was pressed in between her legs now, still not close enough as her thighs wrapped around him to hold him tighter. She caught the front of his trousers, his hardness against the palm of her hand.

He bit her neck, making her moan at the pressure of his teeth, as his grip hardened on her thighs to drag her tighter against him. He ground against her, his hand tangling in her hair, and he pulled her head back with the intention of moving over her. She'd already unzipped the front of his pants. And then his gaze fell to her face and her eyes locked on his. He froze. Blair. Dark eyes so familiar that he couldn't breathe. Blair.

He tried to breathe again and failed. "Stop," he growled. It was a groan ripped out of him, his chest constricted as he dragged her off him. He was gripping her wrists now, pinning her against the bar to stop her movements. Or perhaps to stop himself. His head was reeling.

Her chest rose and fell in the silence, eyes darkened with lust and confusion and a furious, silent longing as she drank in his face. He released her, breathing harsh. He took a step away and sank down against the floor.

He could hear her just above him, drawing air into her own lungs and trying to regain control too. Her legs were as weak as his when she slipped off the bar. He heard her swallow. He finally lifted his gaze up to meet hers, and the expression on her face nearly killed him. She took a step and slid to her own knees before she could help it. Then she was kneeling between his legs, only just not touching him. He'd pulled her hair loose, leaving it in tousled waves around her face, and her lips were bruised with his kisses. He dragged his eyes away because he wanted to pin her back against the bar but there was still something terrifying, something that threatened to paralyse him just by looking at her.

"Chuck," she whispered. She stared at him, lost. Desperate. She shook her head and her eyes were burning. "I can't lose you. You can't leave me." Her voice was tight. She moved forwards, just an inch, hands unsteady as she cupped his face and forced him to look at her. "I'm not losing you."

Her fingers were so soft against his cheeks that it made his eyes close. But he could feel the warmth of her body - and he couldn't – he couldn't - lose her either. So he said nothing and pulled her into his lap. His chest was still ragged as she laid her head on it, his skin bare under her cheek. And she was still in her underwear and pressed against him, his hands trailing her bare thighs as desire tightened again inside him. She felt him tense. So she disentangled herself and lay down at his side instead, aching to bury into him. She didn't move away. It took him a moment, and then he lay down next to her. Silently, her fingers stretched out and entwined with his. Like they were kids again.

He held back as they gazed up at the ceiling. Just liked they'd used to do in the Empire State building, except there were no cracks to count now. His breathing gradually evened out, fingers tight in his, as hers did too.

He turned his head to look at her, eyes moving painfully over her face. "I'm sorry." It was low in his throat.

She drank him in. "It's ok," she murmured.

They watched each other in silence. And this time when he kissed her it was the softest, slowest kiss against her jaw, lips lingering on her skin. The heat from his mouth made her eyes flutter closed as he inhaled her. She tilted her head to kiss him back, her own lips resting on his cheek. He kissed her higher up her jaw and she moved to drop a kiss on the side of his mouth. And then their mouths met. They tasted each other slowly, heads moving closer as they deepened the kiss. Their bodies were almost touching now. She breathed a faint noise into his mouth and she couldn't help but curve, so gently, into him. He kissed her lips, slow, her cheek, her jaw again and the top of her neck, silently wandering down her body. His lips brushed the dip in fabric between her breasts, sliding down to kiss the flat tautness of her bare stomach and then finally her belly button. There was a small scar curved against her abdomen from eight years ago – a bullet wound that he pressed his lips against too, eyes closing for a moment against her precious skin. He kissed the curve of her hip. Her fingers stroked his hair, running along his neck and tracing the back of his head as his mouth found her panties. Her hips moved up against him, just ever so slightly, pleasure creeping through her. Pleasure and wonder because it was Chuck'smouth and Chuck savouring her. Chuck, recommitting every inch of her body to his memory as she shifted herself into him. He eased butterfly kisses against the smooth skin of her thighs.

His gaze met hers and she stretched to run her fingers against his cheek, eyes wide. Then he slid her underwear down and kissed her there. She whispered his name as her head fell back, his tongue exploring her. He kissed her, kissed the innermost crevice of her thigh and tasted her fully for the first time as she trembled against him. She shuddered under his mouth as she came.

Then his body was pressed against hers again as her curves nestled against him, a perfect fit, and they were kissing again and she could taste herself on his lips. Her fingertips travelled across his chest as her tongue explored his mouth. They brushed the knife wound that was still there, the dusting of hair that he'd never had eight years ago and his sternum, the tight muscles of his stomach. One hand slipped, very slowly, under the waistband of his pants. He exhaled as her fingers brushed his length so she looked up, into his black eyes. He kissed her again. And then he was cradling her against him, forehead to forehead as she pulled his pants down and traced his muscled thighs, fitting between his hips. She touched the velvet hardness under her hand. His mouth was hot against the hollow of her throat as she felt his eyelashes close and she stroked him, so soft, fingers trembling.

He murmured her name and shifted onto his back, pulling her with him as her legs curled around his body. His hands explored her hip bones as she dipped down to kiss him there, eliciting a quiet groan from him. Her mouth moved up his body till her hair was tickling his face as she leaned over him, into him, and sank into his lips again. He tilted his head up to deepen the kiss, holding her to him. Their centres were pressed against each other now, legs twined as he slid against her entrance. He guided her hips over his and she eased, slowly, down onto his length. Her breath caught as he filled her for the first time.

Sharp and exquisite as she finally released the breath, finally complete. His fingers shifted over her waist, the small of her back as he pushed himself up into her, his eyes travelling her face. Her hair brushed him again as she kissed him and he breathed in its scent - then he'd flipped them and her arms had twined around his neck, her face buried in his crook as he sank into her. Her hips rose to meet his, thrust for thrust, sweet and agonising as his body slid in and out of hers, her legs tightening around his waist to hold him closer. His breath was hot against her skin as he buried into her again and again and her fingers crept over his back and tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. Her eyes closed in pleasure, aching for him to fill her, taking her higher and higher.

He thrust deeper and something exploded under the surface of her eyelids, snapping open as she gave her body over to him completely. She felt him spill himself inside her, his weight on top of her hot and delicious once he was done. And her hands cradled his face, his hair black with sweat and his eyes unfathomable. She could see their gold in the dim light of the room. And she was so beautiful underneath him, so familiar that it made his breathing rough. Both of their chests rose unevenly. His lips covered hers once more, eyes closing as he leaned against her.

She buried herself in his arms, and she pulled him down to his side while her arms closed around his neck and her head found the curve of his throat. His heartbeat was erratic under her ear, the skin of his chest heated. His own hands tightened on her waist, arms wrapping round her body, chin pressed into her head. He fingered the bare skin of her spine, trapping her curls in one hand as his eyes stayed closed. They lay entwined on the floor till they both fell asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN - Ok, I know this is another shorter chapter – but I think it's actually the longest Chair sex scene I've ever written. I hope Chuck doesn't come across as too OOC given how gentle (?) it ended up – I know it's not piano-sex standard in terms of craziness, and Chuck isn't as in control as he's normally written. So I hope it didn't come across too...mushy? I just think that at this point in this fic it's more a case of them exploring/ re-discovering each other, and wild sex on a bar didn't quite fit that. Also, I'm slightly obsessed with Adele's 'Set Fire To The Rain' at the moment so was playing it on repeat while I wrote this. You know how beautiful music makes whatever you're doing seem like ten times better? So erm this chapter was personally one of my favourites, but I have no idea if that's just 'cause the song was making me over-emotional. The season 4 finale pretty much proved that Adele and Chair are perfect for each other, but this song...seriously.**

**Anyway, thank you so much for all your reviews! I hope this chapter gave you at least some of the heat you've been waiting so patiently for :)**


	16. Chapter 16

Blair was hot when she woke up, her hair gathered damp at the nape of her neck and her limbs burning - but it was a heat that she craved, uncomfortable and delicious, half remembered from nights on rooftops with the one person -

Chuck.

His arm was wrapped, tight, around her bare waist, his warm skin pressed against hers and her thigh nestled in between his legs. And this time neither of them made any attempt to move away or unentangle themselves. She shut her eyes as she remembered last night; and then she felt his breath on her hair and she knew he was awake too. Her lips were still swollen with his kisses as she gazed up at him, eyes clouded with sleep and desire. He traced her face slowly. She smiled and his heart clenched somewhere in his chest.

Her arms slid around his neck, pressing herself even closer as she kissed his cheek and then his neck. She didn't want it to slip away - not ever - the closeness that they'd somehow discovered the night before. She wanted every inch of his body and every inch of him. Always.

She'd technically had sex before, and it had never been anything like that. Because it had never been with Chuck, and it had never meant anything. Never even counted. She'd never realised she could feel like this; never realised her body could respond in this way, the tingling fire just at the feel of his breath, a brush of his fingertips. She could smell the sweat on his skin now as she smoothed his equally damp hair away from his forehead, burying her fingers in its thickness. His collarbone was faintly marked from the fervour of her kisses, and she could see the crescent indent of her nails on his skin. She didn't even remember gripping that hard - but maybe it had been in her sleep. Her lips grazed the marks like she could somehow smooth them away.

She wasn't even aware of the faint bruises blossoming under her own skin.

Chuck's hand was tangled in her hair as his fingers moved over her bare shoulder blades, tracing a pattern along her back, the freckle on her shoulder and the curve of her neck. Her heated skin was soft under his touch. He kissed her brow and she moaned faintly; and then she was pushing on his shoulders as she shifted on top of him. Her hair slid down in a curtain, tickling his face. He leaned up to capture her lips with his and his hands wrapped around her hips. She bit her lip as she gazed down at him, almost hesitant for a moment - even after last night, even though it was Chuck. _Because _it was Chuck. But then he grinned, softly, twisted, and she found herself smiling back as her hands framed his face and she moved down to kiss him again.

She wanted to cover his face in kisses, kiss him again and again and she still wouldn't have enough of his taste. But their breathing was getting shallow as he hardened underneath her and her hand slid, slowly, down -

The sound of knocking made them both jolt upwards. And then the voice made them freeze, eyes locking. The mood that had gripped them, the bubble of intimacy - ChuckandBlair, no end and no beginning and no one else - that they'd been so enfolded in was shattered.

"Chuck. Come on, kiddo. Wake up. We need to talk."

Jack was on the other side of the door.

Blair had already leapt to her feet, limbs protesting at the sudden activity and the separation from a certain other body, hissing, "It's locked-"

But Chuck had already caught her, pushing her towards the bathroom. He didn't want to let her go. "He has a key-"

He just had time to close that door, concealing her, as the other one opened and Jack entered without invitation. Chuck didn't want him here, not in this room. Not invading his memories of the night before. His uncle was clearly not in a good mood either, eyes bloodshot and hair ruffled. He raised an eyebrow at Chuck's state of undress.

"I was just about to take a shower," Chuck snapped, reaching for his bathrobe. "What?"

Jack rolled his eyes back and helped himself to a glass of scotch. The same glass - Chuck tried not to flinch - that both he and Blair had drunk from last night. He managed to fight the urge to knock the tumbler out of his uncle's hands.

"So which lucky girl got to spend the night?" Jack drawled.

"No one."

Jack didn't seem to notice Chuck's curt tone. He simply glanced at the clothes scattered on the floor, the shirt buttons that Blair had pulled off. "I'll take that to mean Raina." He let out a sigh. "Don't you think you've pissed Russel off enough by getting Damien killed?"

Chuck just snorted. "What do you want, Jack?"

"She obviously kept you up all night," Jack sneered. He tossed the empty glass down on the counter. "There's been a change of plan." Chuck waited impatiently for him to continue - he knew Jack was only dragging it out to irritate him. "We don't need Archibald any more," Jack said abruptly. "Get rid of him. And the city scum."

Chuck kept his face blank as his mind raced, forcing aside his panic. Had Jack somehow found out? He watched his uncle, carefully. "Why the change? I spent a long time getting him for you."

Jack just shrugged. "And he seems too clueless to even train. Plus I've heard his grandfather isn't all that fond of him anyway."

Chuck knew for a fact that that had to be a lie - why else would William van der Bilt send Blair to retrieve him? Jack must have had some other motivation. He had to be up to something.

"Do you want to encourage the Brooklynites to attack?" he asked slowly.

Jack scoffed in answer. "Don't be stupid. And don't try to outthink me, Chuck - it's not going to work." He smirked, and it was cold and unpleasant. "Just do as I say. I want them gone."

He sauntered out.

As soon as he was gone, Chuck yanked open the bathroom door. Blair's expression was one of concern, brown eyes slanted in calculation - and he'd never seen a more welcome sight. He didn't even realise he was shaking - in disgust, perhaps? - until she caught him, fingers wrapping round his.

"We'll figure it out," she told him fiercely. "This changes nothing. We just have to speed up our plan."

Chuck glanced down at her, at her unwavering gaze and the strength of her slender fingers entwined with his, and he moved his head in agreement.

Because as long as he was with her - as long as he had her - then he could do anything. They could do anything. She smiled, slightly - and he caught her before she could leave, crushing her to him. She let her face bury in his shoulder for a moment. His arms were hard as she breathed him in. She stroked his hair again, running her fingers through the nape of his neck, head slotted under the hollow of his throat.

"I have to go back," she murmured.

His hands grazed her waist, and she lifted her face so that her forehead was pressed against his. "Blair-" It was low and hoarse.

She kissed him, hard. "I'll get the others ready," she whispered when they finally separated, his breathing harsh. "I'll see you tonight."

* * *

><p>"So," Carter drawled as Blair entered the room. He was sprawled quite comfortably on the velvet sofa. "Someone was gone all night." His eyes flickered over her; her mussed hair, the marks on her neck. And by the looks of it, Chuck's shirt draped around her slender frame. "And forgot their clothes."<p>

Blair gave him a look of pure ice in return. "We need to talk."

Carter just smirked. "You don't look like you've been doing much of that lately." He patted the sofa at his side. "And for the sake of the cameras, I'd recommend you sit a little closer."

Blair ignored him. "I'm going to Jack tonight."

"From nephew to uncle in less than twenty-four hours? You really are-"

"Focus," Blair snapped. "I'm going to Jack, which means you need to be ready to get Serena and Nate out of here."

He angled his head at her. "What happened to taking your time? Getting the best hit?"

"We don't have any more time," Blair answered shortly. "Jack wants us dead by the end of the day."

Carter laughed at little, at that. "Did he ask Chuck to kill you?"

"Actually," came the acidic response, "You were first on his list." Blair's eyes had narrowed dangerously. "And I'm more than happy to take care of that for him. So stop trying to make trouble, and go do what we agreed."

Carter's mouth was still curled as he climbed to his feet. She waited for him to go - but he paused by her for a moment. Cocked an eyebrow. "Am I really the one making trouble here?" he enquired. "Because I'm pretty sure you were anything but _focused _last night." She stiffened, and his smirk widened. "Brooklyn clearly has made you soft, Blair. No one in the city would ever let sex distract them from a plan."

"Just go," Blair hissed.

Carter shrugged. "Hey, I'm only looking out for myself here. I'm not going to end up dead just because you and Chuck have decided to act out childhood friends to lovers."

"I mean it, Carter." Blair's voice was soft and very cold. "I'm going to kill you myself if you're not gone in the next two seconds."

Carter laughed as he disappeared into the next room.

Blair stood, staring at her reflection for a moment. She barely recognised the girl in front of her - and it wasn't because of the blonde hair this time. She looked...soft. Usually the dark eyes that stared back at her were entirely empty. Merciless. And now they were wide and too full, full of an emotion she barely comprehended herself. She couldn't let herself be soft. Carter was right. She didn't have time to get distracted, didn't have time to lose focus. Not if there was a chance that she might lose Chuck if she did.

All it would take was one moment of carelessness, and she'd lose him again. She'd done it once already - and she wasn't about to let it happen again. Not ever. So she pulled open the bathroom door and turned the shower on, full blast and maximum heat.

But even as she stepped under the scalding water and scrubbed, she couldn't get his essence off her skin. She smelt of him, and it was delicious. She could still feel where he'd touched her. Everywhere. She shut her eyes for a moment, head leant back against the tiles while the water cascaded over her shoulders. It burnt her skin, but not as much as he had.

She drew a deep, steadying breath.

One more hurdle. One more thing to take care of and then they would be out of here, and it would just be the two of them.

Forever.

* * *

><p>Nate woke up to a throbbing head and a distant feeling of nausea. A feeling that came dangerously close to the surface when he remembered last night's tequila shots. He was never touching that stuff again, he decided. Even the thought of lemon was making his stomach churn. And salt -<p>

"Oh my god." Serena's groan sounded from next to him. "What did we _do_?"

Nate rubbed at his hair and managed, blearily, "Drank too much." Yup, the room was definitely spinning.

"Never again," Serena mumbled.

Nate squinted across at her. He couldn't help but grin, faintly; her make-up had given her panda eyes, her golden hair a tangled mess.

"What?" she protested as she saw his smile.

He shook his head and attempted a straight face. "Nothing."

"Hey." She pushed at his arm. "You don't look so hot yourself." But she couldn't hide the twitch of her moth back - and then they were both laughing. Even though the effort made their heads hurt ten times worse.

"Oh, good. You're up." Carter's voice cut into their laughter. He smiled charmingly at Nate and ignored Serena's glower. "So, good news. We're getting out of this dump."

Both blondes blinked at him in confusion. "I thought you liked it here?" Nate frowned.

Something uneasy, meanwhile, was prickling at the back of Serena's mind as she watched Carter and processed his words. It took her a moment to place what it was. But she'd lived with Carter for too long not to finally recognise when he was up to something. "We're leaving?"

"Tonight. So pack your bags. And," Carter added, "I'd recommend stocking up on clothes. And taking as much food as you can get."

"What about Chuck and Blair?"

"Yeah," Nate was well and truly confused. "What about Chuck's wound?"

"They'll meet up with us later," Carter breezed. "And he's feeling much better. They have the best doctors here."

Nate paused for a moment. "I can't just leave Blair here-"

"She has Chuck," Carter assured him with a pat on the back. "I don't think she needs anyone else."

"But she wanted to go home," Nate said, stupidly. "What about Brooklyn?"

Carter released a little sigh. "Look, there's no easy way to say this. But why would she go back there now that she has Chuck?"

The blond could only stare. "But...her family are all in Brooklyn."

"Archibald," Carter sighed again - and the use of the other boy's last name was deliberate - "She's from the city. She doesn't have a family."

It stung even Serena. "We could be her family," she interrupted. "I mean...I don't have a family either. Technically." Nate was looking at her now. "Blood isn't everything," she murmured. (It wasn't like it had ever been enough to save her brother). "We...we could be a family."

Carter gave her a brief, condescending look. "Well, I'm pretty sure if anyone's her _family_, then it's Chuck." He turned his attention back to Nate. "Come on. No offence, man, but she doesn't need you. Never has. Probably never will." He smiled. "So let's get out of here."

Nate was still shaking his head in bewilderment. "I want to speak to her."

Carter only just contained his impatience. "I'm pretty sure she's busy at the moment. And anyway, I didn't say she was staying forever. I told you - she's catching up with us later. They both are." His hand was heavy on Nate's shoulder. "So...just get your things together." He glared, pointed, at Serena. "I can trust you to do that, can't I?"

"Yeah," Nate muttered at last.

"Good." Carter smiled again. "There's another party tonight - we'll leave after that."

Nate and Serena exchanged a wary glance once he'd gone. "Is it just me," Nate started, "Or does something feel...off?"

"It does." Serena's brows were knitted. She got to her feet decisively. "And we're going to find out what."

* * *

><p>Serena found Blair packing her things; the other girl spared her a glance as she zipped up her bag. Her hair was still damp from the shower. "Are you ready?" she demanded. She didn't really appreciate the interruption. She had too many things to prepare, and she could do without a giant blonde under her feet.<p>

Serena frowned a little - hadn't Carter said Chuck and Blair were staying for a bit?

"Blair," she said slowly. "Do you remember what we talked about, before?"

Blair arched an irritated eyebrow back. What was she getting at now? Why couldn't she just follow the plan? "You really think I have time to remember all our fascinating conversations?"

Serena folded her arms. "I'm pretty sure you remember this conversation." Her tone was pointed - Blair gave her a look of sheer frustration.

"Yes," she sighed. "I keep Nate safe, you keep Nate safe - I get it. We don't have time to rehash. Now can you please go pack?"

But Serena wasn't moving. "What's the hurry?"

There was a brief silence as the two girls faced each other. Finally, Blair released a sigh. "Let's just say it's in keeping with our conversation." (Well, the end result would be). Keeping Nate safe. Serena studied her for a moment, and then nodded.

"Ok."

Blair motioned the door. "Now go!"

* * *

><p>Chuck smoothed down his black shirt, hair slicked back. He'd told Jack that he'd be getting rid of Nate after tonight's party, because Carter and the others would be easier to deal with if they were drunk. He slipped the jacket over his broad shoulders, gun tucked in at his narrow waist.<p>

He knew that Blair would be getting ready too.

Another small, tight dress and bright lipstick to catch Jack's attention. Because his uncle never had been able to resist a girl. The thought sent bile to his throat because it was _Blair_ - but the thought of Jack's lifeless body soon banished it. Jack had made him lose her. And now Chuck was going to make sure that never happened again.

Jack was going to pay.

He checked the cold weight of the gun just once, and then turned away from his reflection and headed out the door.

* * *

><p>Times Square was pounding again. It all passed in a blur around Blair - the thrusting bodies and thumping music. Her gaze was focused on one thing and one thing only. Jack's booth.<p>

Carter had taken Nate and Serena to the bar. It was now or never.

She felt Chuck's presence behind her. His fingers brushed the small of her back and it was all she could do not to arch into them. But she was entirely set on the task at hand.

"See you later," she murmured without turning to look at him. She felt his breath on her neck for a moment - her eyes shut, briefly - and then she pushed away.

Chuck watched as she approached the booth, still fingering the gun in his jacket.

* * *

><p>Jack was with Elle when Blair slipped past his bodyguards and into his booth. She felt both their eyes rake over her, Elle's ill-concealed disdain. She ignored the older woman and tilted her head at Jack. She made no other movement.<p>

And Jack grinned, wickedly. "Where are your friends?" he enquired.

Blair's mouth curved back. "Not here." Her voice was low.

"So you thought you'd come join our party?"

She bit down on her lower lip. "Your party."

Elle rolled her eyes and was already standing up. "Ugh. You can have this skank to yourself." She tossed her hair; Blair sneered back at her. But then she was gone, hips twisting, and it was just Blair and Jack.

His eyes gleamed up at her.

She approached slowly. Draped her arms around his neck, allowing her body to brush his so that she was almost straddling him. But she turned her face with a smile as he tried to kiss her. Her stomach would have been knotting in absolute revulsion - but she'd emptied herself of all emotion. She would do exactly what she had to to win.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Jack murmured as his hands trailed her thighs, "That rule doesn't apply here."

"We're in a club," Blair said against his ear, letting her breath tickle him. "All the rules apply."

Jack laughed and she didn't think there was a sound she loathed more. "And if we went somewhere else...?"

She just smiled at him.

He was already on his feet, pulling her out of the booth and out of the club. He nodded at his bodyguards to stay where they were. And Chuck, watching from the shadows, followed.

* * *

><p>Nate and Serena were laughing, twirling on the dance floor. So much for their hangovers, Carter thought wryly. He'd seen Blair and Chuck disappear with Jack - now was the time to act.<p>

He slid up to Nate, tapping the blond on the shoulder. "Hey, man." He gestured in the direction of the bathrooms. "I want to show you something."

Serena giggled, voice lost under the music as she twined herself round Nate's arm. "Can I come?"

Carter's smile back was cold. "You should go get ready. We're leaving after this - it'll only take a second."

They were both obviously drunk enough that they didn't need any more persuasion. "Hurry back!" Serena called brightly as she disappeared, swaying slightly in her heels.

Too easy.

Nate was more than happy to follow Carter, blindly, into the bathroom. Carter toyed with the knife in his pocket. He wondered if Nate would be quite so complacent after Carter had slit his throat. It was a shame, really. He flashed the blond a smile as he made sure the room was empty.

"After you."

* * *

><p>Chuck was crouched in the corridor outside his uncle's bedroom door, listening intently to the sounds within, when he suddenly realised that there was someone behind him.<p>

He whirled round and came face to face with Elle.

"Naughty Chuck," she purred. And he saw the glint of a gun in the darkness, aimed straight at him.

* * *

><p>Blair dropped onto the silk comforter of Jack's huge bed, dress sliding up her thighs. Jack was already reaching for her - she pulled back, gazing up at him between her lashes. "I'm thirsty."<p>

"And I'm hungry," Jack answered with a noise of impatience, catching her wrists to pin her down. She twisted away.

"You'll get yours when I get mine."

She could see him debate pushing her down anyway, but finally he rolled his eyes and got up to get some champagne. "So demanding," he smirked. He poured two glasses. "Especially for city trash." He'd taken the space at her side, hand covering her thigh. "How does Carter put up with you?"

She crossed her legs and trailed the rim of her glass. She took a deep sip, eyes never leaving him. God, killing him was going to feel so good. His hand was inching further up her leg. She took another sip, and then she took his glass and set it down on the bedside counter, with hers. But not before she slipped the powder into his.

Then he'd pulled her back to him and had yanked her head back to kiss her neck. His lips were revolting. Quickly, she pushed him down onto the mattress. She could see that her sudden aggression had intrigued him. She was already unbuttoning his shirt. She picked up his glass of champagne. Smiling, she tilted the glass, allowing the light to shine through the gold liquid.

"Good?" he chuckled. "Not that you'd know the difference."

She leaned a little closer, preparing to tilt the glass to his lips - and he suddenly grabbed her wrist. His fingers were hard.

"Enough playing." He tried to drag her down, underneath him, but she'd already slid away. His gaze slanted at her as she crouched at the other end of the bed. His voice wasn't quite so playful any more. "I'm getting bored. Come here."

She offered him the glass instead.

He rolled his eyes again, and reached for it - but just as he seemed about to drink, he tossed the entire thing away. The glass shattered on the floor. And then he'd caught her and overpowered her, and for some reason her responses were sluggish as she tried to wriggle away again.

He smiled down at her, quite calmly. "You don't think you're the only one who knows how to slip something into a drink, do you?" She was aware that his voice was blurring and something was horribly, horribly wrong. "I didn't think you were that stupid, Blair."

* * *

><p><strong>AN - So I am so so so so SO sorry for not updating for so long! Thank you very much for all your amazing reviews, promise I haven't abandoned this fic! :) Erm and I recently found out this fic came 2nd in a Chair fanfic awards competition (which makes me feel about a thousand times worse for not updating :s) - but I just wanted to say huge thanks to anyone who voted for it, I was literally blown away when I found out! I swear, I will try my hardest to avoid making you all wait so long in future...Also, apologies for tainting this chapter with some necessary Blair/Jack - I hope it wasn't too gross, anyway. **


	17. Chapter 17

Chuck kept himself very still as he watched Elle. His hand had slid, immediate, to his jacket - but he wasn't sure he'd even have time to pull his own gun out before she shot him.

Elle tilted her head. The barrel was still aimed right at his face. "What are you doing here, Chuck?" Her eyes slid to Jack's door before Chuck could answer. "Looking for your girlfriend?"

The sound of smashing glass echoed from within; Chuck's entire body tensed towards it. His heart was pouding now. She would be ok. She had to be ok.

Elle laughed. "It's not the brightest idea, is it? Leaving her alone in there with him?" She moved a little closer, shifting the gun to the other hand. "Jack told me you lost her once already. Pretty careless, don't you think?"

Chuck froze as cold realisation sunk in.

Impossible.

Jack couldn't know -

He realised that he couldn't hear Blair's voice any more on the other side of the door. And he launched into action without thinking, knocking Elle's gun out of her hands and yanking his own out. The woman staggered backwards. But Chuck was already turning from her, already seizing the door handle. Jack _knew. _The door wouldn't budge.

"Jack," he snarled as he struck the heavy material. "Open this door." He fired a shot into it, twisting savagely once more on the handle. "Open it!"

He couldn't hear her. He couldn't _hear_ her on the other side. He shoved his whole weight against the frame, but it made no difference. He couldn't get to her. He couldn't -

Something struck him, hard, in the back. He continued to pound on the door, but he could already feel his strength sapping and his legs giving way beneath him. He had to get to her. He couldn't lose her. Spots danced in front of his eyes as he struck once more. He_ couldn't_ lose her.

Russell's voice sounded somewhere in the distance - and then blackness swallowed him, drowning everything else out as he hit the floor. The other man approached Chuck's motionless body and pulled the tranquillizer out of his back.

"Was it really that hard?" he snapped at Elle.

She glowered back at him.

And then the bedroom door opened and Jack appeared. He glanced down at his nephew's unmoving form. "Chuck," he sighed. "Always the hard way." He and Russell bent to grab him and haul him off the floor. "The girl's out cold," he jerked his head at Elle. "Bring her."

* * *

><p>"So, what is it you wanted to show me?"<p>

Nate turned to Carter with a confused expression - and Carter saw his eyes widen in horror, too late, as he caught the glint of the knife in his hand.

But the blond had nowhere to go. He was cornered, and it was just the two of them alone in the bathroom. "I'm sorry about this, Archibald," Carter sighed. "But Jack wants you dead, and he has more to offer than you or your little friends." He shrugged as he advanced on him. Really, Nate didn't seem like a bad guy - but at the end of the day Carter Baizen looked out for one person and one person only. He wouldn't have survived in the city any other way.

Nate shook his head. "What-"

And then a fire extinguisher was crashed, hard, over Carter's head.

The man crumpled instantly. Serena was grim-faced as she stepped over his body, still wielding the extinguisher. All signs of drunkenness had vanished, both in her and in Nate.

Nate could only stare. "You were right," he murmured numbly. "He was going to-"

Serena had already caught his sleeve. "Come on," she worried her lower lip. "We need to get out of here."

With one last look at Carter's prone body - Nate was still reeling, even as Serena dragged him - the blondes hurried out of the bathroom.

* * *

><p>Chuck was snarling in pain.<p>

The sound struck right through Blair's senses, wrenching at her gut. Chuck was in pain. Chuck needed her. She struggled to wake up as the room swam before her. And it sliced into her again, his strangled groan. He was hurting. She had to wake up. She fought hard against whatever it was that was keeping her in place - she had to get to him.

His voice, wracked in furious agony.

The dark room finally shifted into focus as she forced her eyes open. She still couldn't move. And that was when she realised she was tied to a chair, hands bound tightly behind her back. She strained instantly against the bonds, twisting with all her strength. She could still hear him and she couldn't take it.

A low chuckle sounded from behind her.

She jerked her head round - Jack was watching with a smirk. "I'd save your energy. You won't be able to get to him."

Blair's gaze slanted at the man as she continued to twist her wrists against the cable. She repressed a flinch as Chuck's growl rang out, again, on the other side of the wall. "Let him go," she hissed.

Jack just laughed. "Don't worry, Russell won't kill him. But he does need to be punished for his betrayal." He shook his head sadly. "All those years of looking after him, and this is how he repays his only family?"

Her eyes were very cold. "You're not his family."

Jack crouched down so that he was level with her. His face was inches from hers, and she fought the urge to turn away. "Because you need him to be yours, don't you? Because you don't have anyone else." He sighed. "Poor Blair." He reached out to stroke her cheek - and she spat at him. Right in the eye.

Her head rang as he backhanded her.

Still she felt a savage twist of triumph as she watched him swipe at his eye. He stared down at her, lip curling. "I see Brooklyn didn't teach you any manners. What would William van der Bilt say if he could see you now?"

She said nothing.

He let out a sigh. "All the training you've both had, and you and Chuck are still running around like stupid little kids. Did you really think," he snorted, "That you'd be able to kill _me_? That you'd be able to beat me?" He leered down at her - but he was careful to stay out of spitting range this time. "All you've done is help me."

He was cut off by another snarl from Chuck, and Blair felt like she was being torn in two.

Jack cocked his head at the sound, smiling. "I wanted Nate Archibald - can you imagine how pleased I was when Chuck brought me _you_?" He trapped a strand of her hair in his fingers. "Did you really think I wouldn't recognise you, Blair?" She looked back with loathing, and he shook his head. "Archibald could have taken months to turn against his family. But you," Jack caught her chin, and this time she couldn't even spit at him, "You're already a cold-blooded killer just like us. And the only thing _you _care about," - another choked growl on the other side of the wall; Jack smirked - "I already have." He jerked her chin higher, forcing her neck up at an uncomfortable angle. "And that makes you the easiest person in the world to control."

She had no choice but to look straight up and into his eyes, and her entire body burned with hatred. "What do you want?" (She already knew she'd do it. Anything. Anything if it meant not losing him again. Anything to stop those noises).

Jack smirked. "I need you to go home to William. Tell him you lost his little grandson and hope he doesn't throw you out. And while they're all mourning," his fingernails dug into her skin, "You're going to open up the sewers and let me and my men into Brooklyn."

Blair stared at him. This was what he'd been planning, the whole time? "Why can't you do it?" she asked slowly. "I know you're friends with William." She'd _seen_ him in Brooklyn.

The man's face twisted for a moment. "We had a little falling out. And I'm not allowed back. You, on the other hand," he finally released her, "Will get in no problem." He regarded her with satisfaction. "So?"

So Blair had no choice and he knew it. "You're going to keep him here until I do it?" she asked, icy.

Jack laughed a little. "Actually, no. I won't really have time to babysit my nephew while I'm planning an attack. And I'm feeling generous, so I'm going to let him go with you." He turned to pick something up from the table. "But before you get any silly ideas of running away - I'm going to send a little present with you." He dangled it in front of her - some kind of black device that she couldn't make out. "This is going to stay strapped to Chuck's leg. And in exactly one week, it's going to blow up." He smiled. "The only thing that will stop it is a key. Which I will bring," he patted her head, "To Brooklyn, as soon as you let me in." He dropped the device onto her lap, where it rested cold and heavy. Chuck's voice cut through her again as her hands tightened uselessly. "Now." His eyes gleamed. "Do we have an understanding?"

* * *

><p>"Get dressed."<p>

Chuck had finally been untied. His limbs were all savagely bruised, and he could still taste the blood in his mouth where he'd bitten down on his tongue after the first blow. "Tell me where she is," he spat without moving.

Russell threw the clothes at him. "She's alive. Now get dressed, or you won't see her at all."

He'd been given a black shirt and pants, boots and a thick leather jacket. Clothes for the city. He dragged them over his aching frame in silence, and then he'd lurched to his feet. Russell was too slow. Chuck caught him by the throat, slamming him against the wall and ignoring the pain it caused his own body. "Where is she?"

He felt the other man choke under his hand. "I told you-"

"Let him go, Chuck."

Chuck spun round at Jack's voice. "What the hell have you done to her?"

Jack didn't even flinch at the black fury in his eyes. If anything, he looked amused. "She's fine. And like Russell said, if you want to see her again then you'd better do as you're told. Sit down."

"I'm not sitting down," Chuck hissed, "Till you tell me where she is."

"She's getting ready for your trip. Now." He shoved at his nephew's shoulders, forcing him into a chair. "I said sit down." Russell grabbed his arms, stopping his movement, as Jack clamped something to his leg. The metal was cold against his bruised skin.

Chuck went to kick out, twisting away - Jack grabbed him again. "She's alive, Chuck, but we can change that."

He went still.

Jack locked the device in place. Once he was satisfied that it was secure, he stood up with a nod. Russell released Chuck's arms.

"I've given your little girlfriend a task. And I'm going to let you go with her to make sure she gets it done." He leaned closer. "And if it's not, Chuck...then you know who's going to pay." He straightened, gesturing for Russell again as he turned to leave the room. "Bring him."

Chuck shoved Russell away before the man could even approach. "I can walk by myself." He heard Jack chuckle, ahead. He ignored it. He was forced from the room, down the corridor and into another room - and then she was there.

His heart leapt to his throat as sheer relief flooded his entire body. But before he could reach her, Russell jerked him away. "Walk," he snapped. "You can have your sentimental reunion later."

The pair of them were marched out of that room and along more corridors, until they finally reached the escalator leading up to the surface.

Jack gave them a final glance. "I'll see you in a week, then." He smiled at Blair. "Clock's ticking."

He and Russell waited until they'd reached the top of the escalator and disappeared out onto the surface. Then Russell glanced at him. "You're not really going to risk him being killed, are you? After all the time you put into him?"

Jack's mouth curled. "That thing on his leg won't do anything unless I want it to."

"And the girl?"

"Once she's let us into Brooklyn," his eyes hardened, "She's dead. And this time she won't escape."

Russell paused for a moment. "What if she doesn't go through with it?"

The other man gave him a condescending look. "She will. If she thinks she's going to lose him, then she won't be able to think about anything else."

* * *

><p>They were silent as they got outside, her hand fisted in his. The air was cold, the sun just starting to sink - which meant that almost twenty four hours had passed since they'd been caught. Since everything had been ruined.<p>

And then he'd turned her, scanning her to see if Jack had done anything - and relief gripped him, again, because she was alive and unharmed in his arms. "What did he-"

"I'm fine." Her voice was distant, tight. "He didn't do anything."

Her eyes moved over his face, the sound of his pain still echoing in her ears. She'd forced herself not to react. To sit and let it happen, unmoved by Chuck's voice, to not give Jack the satisfaction. And now her vision was searing with tears. Blurring the bruises on his face, the cut on his cheek that still stood out too vividly. One hand tightened round his shirt as she traced the marks, fingers running over the abrasions and discoloured skin. She hadn't been able to do anything. She'd done nothing. Nothing while he was taken away from her, nothing while he'd been hurt.

Nothing. _Like a stupid little kid_.

He grabbed her tight, and she saw the fear burn his dark eyes at her expression. "What? What did he _do,_ Blair?" He was going to go back down there and tear him limb from limb -

She shook her head. "We need to go. We need to get to Brooklyn." She could see it, the clearly defined shape under his trouser leg. "We need to go." It was hard and desperate as she dragged on his shirt. Jack had given her the map of the sewers; they still had to get to Brooklyn, get in, and find the opening he'd told her about. They didn't have _time._

But he caught her elbow roughly, stopping her. "What's going on?"

"We need to get out of here." He still didn't release her. "That thing on your leg," she hissed. "It's going to blow up in one week, unless Jack brings the key - and he's only going to bring it if I get him into Brooklyn. We need to _go_."

Chuck watched her for a moment, mind racing - and then he shook his head. "No. We're just playing right into his hands." If Jack had done_ anything_ to her - he glanced down at his leg too. "He's lying. He's trying to play with your head, just like he always does-"

And Blair's nails were suddenly pressed into his arm, her eyes blazing. "You think," she demanded coldly, "That I'm going to take that risk?"

"Blair-"

"No." She shook her head. "No." She was finding it hard to breathe. "Jack's not going to take you away from me again." He _wasn't_.

Chuck was still holding her elbow. "He can't."

And at that, she let out a furious scoff. "Like he didn't just now?" She gazed up into his eyes, the bruises she'd been powerless to stop marring his cheekbones and the knowledge that his face probably held the least of them. She _couldn't. _"We're going to Brooklyn."

This time Chuck dragged her to him fully, and he ignored the pain that wracked his torso in doing so. He took hold of her forearms so that she couldn't move, savage, her body pressed against his. "What happened in that room?" he snarled. There had to be a reason that she was so close to snapping, that she so prepared to believe his uncle. There had to be a reason for the look in her eyes.

They were so close, now, that she could hear how shallow his breathing was, feel the erratic thud of his heartbeat. So close that her skin was on his, close enough that his bruises and cuts might almost have been hers. And her voice finally broke. "He hurt you."

Chuck's black gaze moved over her in silence.

In silence as he drew her to him, eyes closing, and she sank her head against his shoulder. He could feel her tears burn through his shirt, the salt stinging his wounds. Her hands had threaded in his hair as he held her.

"He hurt you."

* * *

><p>They'd moved as far away from the remains of Grand Central station as they could, to set up camp in the husk of a disembowelled skyscraper. Travelling at night would have been stupid - and besides, Chuck needed to rest. Not that he'd ever admit it.<p>

She was crouched over the rucksack Jack had given her now, searching for food. He'd at least supplied them with water - that, and the plans for Brooklyn. It was pitch black outside as the wind howled through the streets. But both of them felt somehow more at ease than they ever had Underground; Blair finally felt like she could breathe.

Until she looked at the thing round Chuck's leg.

She forced herself to ignore it and returned to her search. Of course the bastard hadn't given them so much as an energy bar.

She felt Chuck tense at her side; and she stopped too, listening. Their eyes met. There was someone moving around outside. They were both silent as they got to their feet.

Jack had taken away their guns, but they'd never needed them as kids and they didn't need them now. Blair had already slipped out a shard of glass as Chuck's grip tightened on an iron bar. They crept to the doorway of the building. There was a voice, on the wind.

And then a figure emerged in the darkness and Blair didn't think twice before slipping out of the shadows and pressing the glass straight to his throat, millimeters from slicing it open as her arm twined around his neck -

"It's Blair! Nate, it's Blair!"

Chuck jerked round to see Serena. She looked a mess even in the dark, blonde hair wild and still in last night's dress. Blair realised, then, that the person she was seconds from killing was none other than Nate. The blond was choking in her grip. Quickly, she released him. "You're alive." She stared at him.

But he was staring back with something like fear in his eyes, disbelief that she - _Blair _- had been so close to actually murdering him. She hadn't even hesitated. He could still feel her arm around his neck, merciless. The same look he'd seen from Carter. For a moment he stared like he had no idea who she was. (Did he, he wondered? Did he at all?)

Chuck didn't seem particularly affected as he glanced between the two blondes. "How did you escape?"

"Carter tried to kill me," Nate muttered. He shook his head as if to clear it of the memory of her ruthlessness.

Blair had slipped the shard of glass away - but when Serena took in both her and Chuck's expressions, she realised neither of them looked very surprised. "You knew he was going to?"

The brunette rolled her eyes. "Of course we didn't. He's your friend, remember? Not ours. But I can't say I'm surprised." Because had she been in Carter's position, she probably would have done exactly the same. And so would Chuck. She couldn't say she blamed Carter for picking the side that was so obviously going to win.

Which wasn't to say that, if she saw him again, she wouldn't kill him straight out for this betrayal.

"He had a knife," Nate swallowed. "But Serena managed to knock him out." He looked helplessly between Chuck and Blair. "He said Jack sent him to do it."

"Yeah," Chuck said, quiet.

Nate's eyes widened. "You knew?"

Chuck and Blair exchanged a glance. "Jack told us you were dead."

"Well, he's not." Serena cut them off fiercely. "We went back to the club afterwards to find you, but...Jack's guards saw us. So we had to run. Nate remembered the escape route you told us about."

(Chuck was surprised, at that. He hadn't thought either of them would remember. They'd hardly been listening when he'd first described it to them - and it had only been in case the worst came to the worst. Which, he realised now, it had).

"We were waiting for you," Nate explained. "And we figured if you didn't come out by tomorrow, then we'd go to Brooklyn and get reinforcement."

Blair only just managed not to snort at the very idea of William van der Bilt wasting men to send after her. Poor Nate.

"So...what's the plan now?"

Blair glanced at Chuck again. She didn't want to drag Nate into this, she realised. If they went back and Jack attacked then he was dead for sure. But it was quite clear that the blondes had no intention of leaving them. "We need to go to Brooklyn," she said at last. Her expression was quite blank as she lied. "We need to warn your grandfather about what Jack has planned." Nate's face had already turned grim, because he knew they did. Blair had always been right - no matter how angry he was, Nate would never turn his back on his family. "I know you don't want to go back," she sighed, "But we can all leave again once we've warned him."

Nate perked up, at that. "All of us?"

He missed the look shared between her and Chuck; the imperceptible tightening of her jaw. She forced a smile. "All of us."

* * *

><p>Nate and Serena had fallen asleep, clearly exhausted by the events of the past two days. Their muffled snores were drowned out by the wind outside.<p>

Blair slowly unbuttoned Chuck's shirt. The blondes had been horrified enough when they'd seen his face - it was a good thing they weren't conscious now. Blair's breathing caught in a hiss as she ran her hands over the welts. She hardly dared touch for fear of hurting him more. He caught her wrist in his hand, trapping it between the two of them. "Blair-"

Gently, silently, she pushed him down to his knees. And she sank down with him until they were face to face. She reached for the water and her shirt that she'd soaked in it. She could see his jaw clenched in pain as she pressed the material against his enflamed skin; he said nothing, though.

She cleaned the blood away in silence. Soothed his bruises, her fingers followed by her lips. Her breathing was caught with the effort not to cry, furious tears at the vicious marks.

He caught the side of her face once she'd finished, hands sliding to her jaw - and then his mouth found hers. He tasted of blood. He pulled away to kiss her neck, his breath hot on her skin. He lay her down, shifting so that his body was curved into hers despite the pain. And she clung to his neck because it was the only part of him that wasn't injured, eyes finally closing. He waited till she'd fallen asleep before doing the same.

He'd agreed to go to Brooklyn.

But, device on his leg or not - he had no intention of doing anything until Jack was dead.

* * *

><p><strong>AN - Thank you all so much for your reviews! I'm really glad there are people still reading :) I hope this chapter wasn't too fast-paced...it'll slow down a bit once they get to Brooklyn, promise! And I know a few people wanted Chuck to rescue Blair; sorry this didn't deliver that :s**


	18. Chapter 18

The sun had just started its descent when they finally reached the Brooklyn bridge. Serena gazed at the expanse of black water, the immensity of the perfectly built structure that stretched out over it. People from the city knew better than to go near the bridge. Some said the entire thing was electrified - that if you so much as put a foot in its proximity, you'd be fried to a crisp. Men with machine guns were supposed to be on permanent patrol, watchtowers and spotlights tracking your every move.

The reality was far less dramatic.

The bridge was silent, steel wires and granite towers dark against the evening sky. And in the far-off distance, across the water, lights glimmered from Brooklyn itself. Serena swallowed.

Blair gazed at the borough in silence too. She could feel the city behind her, the rush of wind against her back - a wind that never seemed to reach Brooklyn. The neat claustrophobia of its perfect low-lying buildings. Paved streets. Artificial trees.

"Ready?"

Chuck's voice was a murmur in her ear. She turned to look at him; the wind ruffling his black hair, white cheekbones slanted in the cold air. His dark eyes glowed amber. Entirely alien to the stifling organisation that waited for them at the other end of the bridge.

She'd been so focused on just getting to Brooklyn and getting that thing off his leg that she hadn't had time to even consider it. But the strangeness engulfed her, now, at the prospect of _Chuck _in her blank, ordered Brooklyn life. She wasn't Blair in Brooklyn. She wasn't that fierce half-starved girl on a rooftop with one boy's hand in hers. In Brooklyn she was B. She was whoever she needed to be, whoever William van der Bilt told her to be, whoever everyone else expected her to be.

And again, the idea of Chuck seeing her like that, of Chuck even being there -

Brooklyn had always meant life without Chuck, and life without Chuck meant she wasn't Blair. Life without Chuck meant she didn't know who she was, and she didn't care.

For a moment his fingers rested on the small of her back. A second of contact. Her eyes closed.

And then opened as she pulled herself together, cold. Because the strangeness didn't matter any more. The only thing that mattered was saving him.

"Let's go."

* * *

><p>Chuck's lips were pursed as he took in the large brick building of the van der Bilt compound. They'd been let through the boundary at the bridge and taken straight here the instant the guards had seen Nate.<p>

Chuck had imagined killing William van der Bilt many times. Imagined coming to Brooklyn and tearing the place to pieces, just like the Underground had trained him to. Just like Jack had trained him to. And now he was finally going to meet, in the flesh, the man he'd blamed for taking Blair from him for so long.

His visions of coming here had certainly never included the butler at the door who rushed to take his jacket, nor the attendant who bowed him into William's study. But then he'd never intended on coming here with the grandson of man himself.

Blair glanced at him just once. She was oddly silent, as though preparing herself for something.

"Nathaniel."

The old man stood up as soon as they entered - and Chuck caught a glimpse of grey hair, an expensive suit and a severe lined face before he'd enfolded Nate in an embrace.

"We were all so worried about you, son."

The study's oak panelling couldn't have been more different from the glass and metal of the Underground. Large oil-painted portraits stared down at them from the walls instead of cameras, and wooden parapet lined the floor instead of plush carpet. But it was no less suffocating, Chuck realised, just because it was on the surface. It made the back of his neck prickle.

Nate was too busy returning William's hug to notice. "Grandfather. We need to talk-"

The old man waved his hand. "Yes, we'll have plenty of time for that later. As long as you're all right. That's the most important thing."

"No, you don't understand-"

"Nathaniel," William laughed. His eyes didn't, Chuck noticed. They remained iron grey. "You look as though you haven't washed for weeks. Why don't you and your friends," - he glanced at Serena, still in her skimpy dress, face smudged with dirt - "Go and get washed, mm? Then we can have this discussion over dinner."

"But-"

They were interrupted as the study door was flung open and a woman appeared. She was blond like Nate with wide, anxious eyes, dressed in pearls and a perfectly matched dress and cardigan.

"Nate!" Worry crossed her face as she held her arms out to him. "Oh, you're back." Her hands fluttered to his hair as she sighed in obvious relief. "Thank God."

It was the most emotion Blair had seen Anne Archibald express in a long time.

"Mom." Nate hugged her back.

And Serena and Chuck weren't sure whether to avert their eyes. Because an odd longing had filled Serena at the sight of mother and son, so close and so clearly happy to see each other. She'd conveniently managed to forget that Nate did, in fact, have a family. Nate had a family.

Parental love was hardly something Chuck had ever experienced either.

Blair was at least used to seeing it in Brooklyn, even if she'd never received it herself. She'd even seen it with the godawful Humphreys and Abrams - she was used to watching and remaining unaffected, face blank with a fake smile. She'd never wanted or needed parents anyway. Besides, she reflected as she watched Anne - if Chuck had run away, then she wouldn't have waited for someone else to go after him. If he ever dared leave her then she would drag him back herself, kicking and screaming or not.

She could sense his discomfort, and something about him even witnessing the Archibald's exchange made her uncomfortable too.

"I'll have the chefs prepare your favourite," Anne was saying as she fussed over her boy. "You don't look like you've eaten a proper meal in weeks." She quite deliberately didn't look at Serena or Chuck - Blair suspected she found Serena, in particular, a little too much to handle. She turned her attention to Blair instead. "And neither do you, darling." She cupped the girl's cheek and Blair bared her teeth in a smile. She could feel Chuck behind her, watching it all. Watching her. "Let's go get you cleaned up-"

"Wait," Nate protested as his mother tried to shepherd him out of the room. "I really need to talk to-"

"I told you, Nathaniel. Later." William gave a pointed look at Anne. "You're not really going to keep your mother waiting, are you?" He laid a hand on Nate's shoulder to cut him off. "I told you, we'll talk at dinner."

"All right," Nate muttered at last, seeing Anne's face. Then he turned as he remembered Serena. "And my friends-"

"George will show them to their rooms." William's smile didn't meet his eyes, again, when he nodded at the waiting butler. "They can stay in the guest wing."

Nate grinned at Serena; she just about managed to grin back. But her heart was already sinking. She'd got quite used to falling asleep with Nate - the guest wing sounded like it was miles away from wherever he was.

Chuck wondered where exactly Blair's room was.

Anne and Nate were already leading the way out - but Chuck saw it. William hadn't bothered to acknowledge Blair the entire time they'd been in the study, but he gave her a single look just as everyone else was leaving. And Chuck saw Blair incline her head, faintly, back. Her eyes refused to meet Chuck's as they filed out.

It was only as Nate was attempting to introduce Serena to Anne - which took up all of the woman's appalled attention - that Blair glanced at him. She'd paused to let the others go on ahead. "I'll see you later," she murmured so only Chuck could hear. He arched an eyebrow, but she'd already slipped away and back to William's study.

Chuck waited a moment. And then he followed her, silently.

William was facing the window when Blair re-entered, eyes fixed on the town square that could be seen through the large leaded frames. He didn't turn round.

"Humphrey's still alive," he said, very quietly. "He got back a few days ago, rambling about murderers. And you." That cold grey stare fixed on her. "He claims you're insane."

Blair cursed inwardly. How the hell had Humphrey even got back? He was so clueless, he should've been killed for sure. She hadn't even wasted time thinking about him.

"Nobody was supposed to know you were in the city, let alone what you were doing. How did you let Humphrey escape?"

"I got distracted," Blair muttered. "The Underground were after Nate."

At that, William paused. "What?"

"The Underground," Blair responded icily. "It's real. And the situation's a lot worse than you think - they have weapons. Training."

The old man frowned at her. "You saw it?" He didn't give her a chance to respond. "You were supposed to be bringing my grandson back, not traipsing round tunnels." His fingers drummed on his mahogany desk for a moment. "Is this what Nate's so desperate to talk to me about?"

Blair nodded her assent.

William released a sigh. "You're lucky I don't throw you out now. You and the trash you brought back from the city." He gave her a cool look. "Do you know how much of your mess I've had to clean up? This family can't afford-"

"I'll get rid of Humphrey tonight."

William's face darkened at her interruption. "Don't be stupid," he snapped back. "Do you think I need another body on my hands?" He turned again, dismissing her. "I'll work out what to do with him later." She moved to leave - "And Tripp needs distracting again." William's voice was brusque. "He's been restless ever since you left." He spared Blair a glance, and the prospect filled her with a familiar sense of dullness. "Fix it. Tonight."

He waved for her to go.

She was so filled with cold dislike for the man, moving into the corridor, that she jumped when a hand closed around her wrist.

"Chuck." It came out a hiss as she pulled herself away. Her eyes shot back to the study, but the door was closed. "What are you doing here?"

And the familiar heat of his grip, the cool dark fierceness in his gaze as it moved over her - it felt too out of place. She couldn't swallow it, not just as she was slipping back into the role she'd perfected so well. "What did he want?" Chuck enquired.

It should have clicked before. William, after all, had been the one to send Blair after Nate in the first place. But whatever secret relationship or connection they had threw Chuck now. He somehow hadn't expected it. William van der Bilt had been Blair's killer for eight years. The idea of her even seeming to be on his side, of her doing things for him - it prickled at Chuck's skin like everything else did here.

Blair rolled her eyes. "To berate me, mainly." (For some reason she didn't want to tell him what else William had wanted.) She led the way down the corridor that she knew and Chuck didn't. "Dan Humphrey made it back." She pulled a face as they turned a corner. "He wasn't supposed to."

That made Chuck pause for a moment. "Wait." He caught her arm. "That guy with you was a Humphrey? As in, a relation of Rufus Humphrey?"

"His son." Blair shot him a quizzical look. "Why?"

Chuck's gaze had slanted in thought. "Jack wanted Rufus dead."

She sent him a smirk, at that. "That was you?" She'd hated Rufus Humphrey almost as much as she hated Dan. All that precious moralising was, of course, hereditary.

"But why did William want his son dead too?"

Blair shrugged. "He kept asking questions. William doesn't like sending people into the city unless it's necessary. And Rufus Humphrey," she snorted, "Was definitely not necessary." William had never bothered to keep his disdain for the man hidden.

She realised Chuck was still frowning, though. She raised her brow at him.

"Did William like Arlo Abrams?" he asked slowly.

"The only person who liked Arlo Abrams was his daughter." Equally irritating Vanessa. Then Blair's eyes went narrow with glee. "That was you too?"

But Chuck, for once, didn't share her enthusiasm. "I always assumed the people Jack wanted dead were the ones closest to William. Not the ones he hated."

Blair took a moment to process what he was saying. "No," she said at last. "They can't be working together. Jack told me William wasn't even speaking to him."

"And you really think we can believe anything that comes out of _Jack's_ mouth?" Just the name was enough to stir the pit of loathing in his stomach.

"Of course not," she said, impatiently, "But if they're really on the same side, then why does Jack need us to get him into Brooklyn? Why even attack Brooklyn?"

"Obviously he's planning to double-cross William."

"He could still get in to Brooklyn himself," Blair pointed out. Then she shook her head. "Why does it even matter, anyway? Who _cares_ what they're up to?" The only thing that mattered was making sure she didn't lose Chuck. Not Jack, and not William.

It mattered because Chuck needed to know exactly what Jack was up to if he ever stood any chance of killing him. He'd failed once already because he'd been caught unprepared. He wasn't going to let it happen again. "We need to know what Jack's plans are."

They could hear Serena's voice ahead - and Anne's increasingly unhappy questions - so Blair came to a stop, lowering her own voice. "The only thing we need to do is get that thing off your leg."

"So we just let Jack win?" Chuck hissed.

Blair whipped round to him. She couldn't believe they were having this conversation again. "If you die," she hissed back, "Then he's already won."

Chuck opened his mouth to argue back - but they were cut off by a throat being cleared. "Can I show you to your room now, sir?" The butler was too well-trained to stare. Blair gave Chuck one last pointed glare before she let him go.

She was already steeling her own insides. If William van der Bilt threw them out now then their entire plan would fail. So Blair was going to do, like she always did, exactly what she needed to. She'd stop off at Tripp's after dinner. First, though, she needed the right pearls and the right dress to be the most perfect doll that had ever existed.

* * *

><p>Chuck adjusted the bow tie of the tuxedo Nate had lent him. The only thing he missed from the Underground, he decided, was his own suits. The sleek material, the flawlessly fitted jackets; they'd been a kind of armour. Wearing someone else's suit felt wrong. He slicked his hair back as he gazed into the walnut-framed floor-length mirror.<p>

And then he tugged at his trouser leg, teeth ground. He could feel it on his leg. But, he vowed, it was the last shred of control Jack was going to have over either his or Blair's life.

There was a knock at his door; the damn butler again.

"Mr Van der Bilt requests that you join him for pre-dinner drinks."

Chuck looked at the man between narrowed eyes. "Me?"

The butler cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. "Before dinner, all the gentleman usually..."

"Fine," Chuck cut him off. Curt. "Lead the way."

He prowled after the man, body tensed under his swagger. Because he didn't trust William van der Bilt as far as he could throw him. And truth be told, being separated from Blair for so long had left him decidedly on edge.

He was led, however, to a small side room - where he found Nate and William already waiting. Plus another man that Chuck didn't recognise, but assumed was another van der Bilt thanks to his clean-cut appearance. He could, Chuck reflected, have been Nate's brother.

The three of them were gathered by the large oak fireplace, all holding crystal-cut glasses of what looked like Vermouth. Nate was deep in conversation with his grandfather, no doubt telling him all about his adventures in the city. And attempting to warn him about the Underground - a warning that Chuck was fairly sure William wouldn't listen to any case. Because even if he hadn't already known about the Underground, William van der Bilt didn't seem the kind of man that ever listened. To anyone, let alone to his own clueless grandson.

The clueless grandson who smiled at Chuck as soon as he saw him. "Drink?" Chuck didn't think he'd ever seen anyone so willing to welcome a person into their home.

A willingness William obviously didn't share - he, of course, didn't look at Chuck once.

But Chuck was watching him.

"So, are you really from the city?" The question came from the guy Chuck didn't know.

Nate had already agreed that, given what they needed to tell William, hinting at Chuck's involvement with the Underground possibly wasn't the best of ideas. He glanced round now. "Sorry, Chuck. This is my cousin, Tripp."

So Chuck had been almost right. Tripp was holding out his hand, now, with a smile. Chuck regarded him as he accepted the hand. He _did_ look like Nate, earnest and wide-eyed and blond - but his face was slightly narrower, his hair that fraction more perfect, and there was something about him that somehow wasn't quite as genuine.

Something about the gulps of Vermouth that he took, and the way he kept smiling and shaking Chuck's hand. Something about all the jokes and comments he made that were clearly designed to impress his grandfather, even though he didn't seem overly fond of the old man.

Chuck swallowed his own drink and found himself wishing they'd given him something stronger. He didn't take his eyes off William for a second. He wished, more importantly, that they'd hurry up and get to dinner so he could see Blair.

* * *

><p>"Serena."<p>

Blair grabbed the blonde's arm before she could proceed into the ornate dining room.

"You can't wear that. It's _lingerie_."

Serena glanced down at the silk slip that she'd found folded in one of her drawers. She liked the bright green colour, and she liked the feeling of silk against her skin. She took a look at Blair's outfit in comparison - Blair looked like a slightly sexier version of Anne Archibald, in a tight navy and white dress with a cream cardigan, and even a pearl necklace. Her lips were a deep red, her hair curled and back to its usual dark lusture. She didn't look much like the girl Serena remembered from the city. Or like the blonde in the tiny dress from the Underground. She looked like one of the girls in the faded magazines Serena and Georgie had used to paper up their broken windows. Impossibly perfect and untouchable.

Her manicured fingers didn't look like they'd ever so much as touched a gun.

Serena considered her own outfit again. "I like it," she shrugged. It surprised because no one had ever dictated to her what she needed to wear.

Blair rolled her eyes. "At least put this on." She held out a black pashmina; the blonde took it with a good-natured sigh.

"Fine."

But Blair stopped her, again, before she could go. "Don't drink more than one glass of wine. Don't take seconds. Don't speak unless you're spoken to. And don't laugh too loudly."

Serena cocked her head. "That's a lot of don'ts." She regarded the other girl for a moment. "Why do you care so much?"

"Because you're already on thin ice with William," Blair snapped back. "He's just waiting for an excuse to throw you out."

The blonde laughed, a little. "He's an old man," she breezed. She was even more surprised that Blair listened to what he had to say - the girl she'd known from the city would never have done that.

"Well, here he's everything." Serena didn't get it. _Everyone_ in Brooklyn answered to William van der Bilt. Their very existence here depended on him entirely.

Serena noticed a blankness to Blair's expression. "Well," she answered lightly, "Then it's a good thing we don't live here, isn't it?" She smiled as she pulled on the brunette's arm. "Come on."

* * *

><p>The men stood up as the girls entered.<p>

Blair saw Nate grin, faintly, as he noticed what Serena was wearing; saw Tripp blink and William suppress an eye-roll. But her own gaze ended up in one place and one place only.

Chuck's face was expressionless as he drank her in. For a second she searched those black eyes, wondering what he was thinking. (How could she ever not know what Chuck was thinking?) But he was seeing her, now, in all her Brooklyn glory. The tuxedo he wore obviously wasn't his, and she could see the tightness of the stiff white shirt around his neck. She had the irrational, aching urge to pull it loose.

"Blair." Tripp was already smiling at her as he held out her chair. "You have to sit next to me - I'm not taking no for and answer." And Blair reminded herself of what she needed to do as she tore her eyes away from Chuck. She didn't get to be the carefree blonde in the slip. She couldn't afford to be the girl who didn't let anyone tell her what to do. So she let Tripp kiss her cheek, let him linger too long and let his hands trail her waist. And then she took her place at his side just like William wanted her to.

She ignored the heat of Chuck's silent gaze.

"Oh. You're all here."

Anne appeared in the doorway - and her voice came out faint as she took in Serena. As she took in every inch of Serena's long legs that were tossed over each other; too long to be contained by the table.

William broke the silence, tersely. "Let's eat."

Anne already appeared to have had more than she could stomach - eating was plainly the last thing she felt like doing. And, as Blair saw the look of pure yearning that Tripp was giving her, she had to agree with that sentiment.

* * *

><p>The chandelier reflected, dazzling, off the polished dining room table, illuminating the gleaming silverware and bone white china in a golden glow.<p>

The succulent pork was unlike anything Serena had ever eaten. Blair's advice to not take seconds slid entirely out of her head as Nate told her all about the pigs they kept in Brooklyn. The only animals she'd ever seen in the city were rats - a mangy cat or dog at the most. Nate seemed more than happy to describe, just to her, the place he'd grown up in. Their conversation was the only easy one at the entire table; a fact that both blondes seemed oblivious to.

Anne seemed to have decided that ignoring said conversation - and Serena's eager mouthfuls - was the only way to deal with the situation. She was engaged instead in a rather stilted conversation with her father, about the celebration they were planning for his birthday. The day after tomorrow would also mark the eighteenth year he'd been in power.

Tripp, meanwhile, kept trying to nudge Blair's arm with his, smiling at her between every forkful and offering to cut her meat, pour her wine and fetch her water. She let him with a smile. She didn't eat a bite of any of it.

Chuck watched Tripp quite coolly over his own glass. He'd been right - of course he had. And he watched Blair, watched every perfect smile and every movement of her hand as she pushed her food around her plate. Just like the way she'd pretended with Nate. The same feigned helplessness, the carefully acted softness. He wondered how it was even possible that none of them had ever worked it out. It was the same act she'd used to use to lure travellers and lone city thugs so that Chuck could rob them. It was the oldest trick in the book - although he had to admit that there was no one who did it better than a doe-eyed Blair.

But, stupidly, it hadn't occurred to him till now that it was an act she'd had to keep up for eight years. It had taken him long enough to really believe that she was back _now_ (that she was real and she wasn't going to disappear); that her smirk and those brown eyes were really there every time he looked and he hadn't lost them forever. But the fact that she'd been alive for those eight years, that she'd had a life without him that he knew nothing about - that was an entirely different concept. And an even harder one to comprehend.

He didn't understand, either, why Blair was refusing to meet his gaze now. She knew he was just as good at acting as she was; he always had been.

And the fact that he was sorely tempted to put a bullet through Tripp and all his desperate adoration wasn't doing much to help at all.

* * *

><p><em>Meet me in my room so we can catch up properly? <em>

Tripp slid the hastily scrawled-on napkin into Blair's hand as he stood up, smiling. "Thanks for a great dinner, grandfather."

William nodded. "Send Maureen my regards. Tell her I'm sorry she couldn't make it."

"You know what she's like with her garden committee." There was the faintest hint of something bitter on Tripp's face for a moment.

His grandfather ignored it. "I trust you've prepared your address for tomorrow?"

And at that, Tripp's expression turned vague. "Yeah, sure..."

William smiled tightly. "Good boy."

Blair could feel that it was aimed at her. She would, of course, be preparing Tripp's address for him and making sure he was motivated to deliver it perfectly by tomorrow. Maureen had used to be the one who did all of those delightful tasks - before Tripp had grown frustrated with her constant nagging.

Wives nagged. Mistresses didn't.

She forced a smile in Tripp's direction to let him know she'd got the message. He walked out looking very pleased with himself. Chuck's lip curled as he watched him go.

Anne was already yawning, pointedly, behind her hand. "Well, today's excitement has worn me out. Nate. You must be exhausted too." She got to her feet, brushing her son's hair as she did so.

Nate smiled back up at her. "Actually, I wanted to show Serena how to play pool."

The warm expression slipped straight off Anne's face. "Oh. I see."

"I'll see you tomorrow?" the blond offered.

"Of course." Anne's lips were pinched now. But she seemed unable to stop herself from adding, "Don't stay up too late."

"I'll make sure he doesn't," Serena chimed in brightly.

Anne might have looked in physical pain. "Oh...lovely." She cast one more anxious glance in their direction before she finally left the dining room. Blair suspected she was headed straight for her pill bottle.

"You should join us," Nate was insisting to Chuck now.

Chuck only just stopped himself from responding that he already knew how to play - William van der Bilt was still in the room. And no one who'd grown up in the city would ever have known how to play pool.

"Nathaniel." William rose. "Your mother's right. Not too late."

And then he was gone.

(And it was surprising how much easier it felt to breathe once the patriarch was out of the room.)

"Come on," Serena grinned. Her gaze slid to Blair. "Just one game?"

Blair calculated that she had half an hour to kill before she needed to go to Tripp. "One game."

Serena, she decided as the blonde practically danced out of the room, got far too excited about _everything_. Although possibly she'd become far too accustomed to the blonde, because it didn't irritate her half as much as it should.

She suddenly felt Chuck's breath on her neck. "Any good at this game?" he murmured as he followed her out. His voice tickled her ear.

Still, she couldn't resist the faint smirk as she glanced back at him. "The best." She was close enough that she could feel his smirk back.

And he smirked because the real Blair had re-emerged - even if it was just for a second.

* * *

><p><strong>AN - Thank you so so much for all your wonderful reviews! And apologies for ending the chapter here, I decided I had to split it because it was getting too long...on the bright side, next update should be relatively quick? :) **


	19. Chapter 19

The crackling warmth of the billiard room's fireplace seemed far more inviting without William van der Bilt's presence. The four of them were gathered round the large pool table, Chuck leaning on one side next to Blair and the blondes on the other.

Well-fed and clothed in silk, finally warm and surrounded by the solidity of ornate wood and tapestry, Serena felt like she was in another world to the one she'd inhabited just last night. But as long as she focused on that warmth - on the blue of Nate's eyes - then she could ignore the fact that the comfortable bubble, sooner or later, was going to burst. As long as Nate smiled at her then she was happy to believe that this was her world too.

Nate had taken his jacket off, loosened his tie and rolled his sleeves up. (A sharp contrast to Chuck). He was as serious about pool as he could be serious about anything. It was a sport, after all, and he loved sport - even if he did prefer team games. Which was was why he was far happier pairing off with Serena than he'd ever been in any of his solo games with Tripp. Plus Tripp took pool _too _seriously.

"Ok," Serena giggled as she clutched her cue. "Show me again?"

Blair and Chuck exchanged an eye-roll. They were_ still_ waiting for the other team to get their act together. "Are we actually going to play tonight?" Blair enquired. She couldn't stop the faint edge to her tone - time was ticking away from them.

"She almost has it," Nate protested with a grin. "One more time." He stood behind the tall blonde, trying not to breathe in too deeply the fruity scent of her hair. Trying not to get too caught up in her bare arms and even barer legs. His hands slid over hers, and she luxuriated in their steady warmth. Her thoughts were far too wrapped up that feeling to even notice the multi-coloured balls on the table. "So you hold the cue like this..."

Blair rolled her eyes again and glanced at the clock. Again. She felt Chuck's gaze on her, felt it sting. "What?"

The blondes' laughter drowned everything else out as Chuck tilted his head, idle. His dark eyes were a mask of indifference. "Somewhere you need to be?" His sleeve brushed hers and she ignored the tingle it sent down her spine.

"Bed," she answered shortly. "We have an early start tomorrow, remember?" Tomorrow they planned on using Jack's map to locate the sewers. Blair's lips pressed even tighter as Serena missed yet another shot and laughed yet again. "We can't afford to waste time playing games."

"I agree," Chuck murmured against her ear.

Something about the way he said it pricked as Blair twisted her head to regard him. She searched his face - and then closed her own off, turning away. "Good."

Chuck continued to watch her. But then Serena was finally clapping her hands together, breaking them out of it before he could say anything else. "Ok. Let's play!"

* * *

><p>Nate blinked as Chuck executed yet another flawless shot.<p>

"Wow. You're really good at this." Scarily good, in fact.

"Hm." Chuck's mouth curved a little. He'd spent eight years training to hit any target with practically any kind of weapon- a few balls on a table were hardly a challenge.

Nate scratched his head. "Seriously, I didn't think anyone was as good as Blair."

Chuck glanced at Blair again. He smirked, inwardly - he doubted she'd got so good thanks to intensive pool training. Damien's leg had been proof of that. And he remembered hours crouched on rooftops with her, aiming at targets below for potential goods to steal. He watched her now. "We make a good team."

And at that, Blair's eyes shot to his. He held her gaze, challenging, till she looked away. She hadn't missed it. He could see how tightly she was gripping her cue, knuckles almost white.

"My go!" Serena's own cue was slung loosely in one hand - not even the right way up. Despite the instruction that had taken up so much of their time, she still didn't appear to have grasped the concept of the game. (A fact that Nate was enjoying himself too much to even notice).

"Oops," she chuckled as another shot went wide. Any wider, Blair thought acidly, and it would have been off the table. "Your go." She flashed a smile at the brunette - a smile that Blair didn't return. She'd needed the game to focus. To ready herself. And all she could hear was Serena laughing and laughing because everything was _great. _All she could feel was Chuck. Watching her.

She forced her concentration into tuning out their inane chatter - tuning out Chuck's silence - as she picked up her stick again and approached the table. Serena had at least put the ball into a good position for her. She slid the wood along the felt, angling it. It was an easy shot. She couldn't miss it.

Serena's laugh jarred again at something Nate said - and Blair made the mistake of glancing up, just for a fraction of a second. And her eyes locked straight on a dark gaze that _burned_, the cool tilt of his head and his presence just inches from hers. Her cue jerked against the ball and sent in spinning. Out of control and off-target.

She let out a hiss of pure, furious frustration.

"Can you not shut up for_ two seconds_?"

That shut them up. Both Nate and Serena blinked at the pale anger on the brunette's face. She was still clutching the cue, and Nate had a sudden vision of the girl who'd held that shard of glass to his throat. He'd forgotten all about her now that they were back in Brooklyn and Blair was back in her pearls. He swallowed, unsettled. "It's just a game, Blair." He attempted to make his tone appeasing.

Blair _never_ lost her temper. Not in Brooklyn. At least not that he'd ever seen, and definitely not in any of these rooms.

"It's not a game," Blair snapped. "A game would imply some level of competition. Two teams. A game doesn't involve watching you two use her pretend incompetence," she glowered, icy, at Serena, "To flirt all night."

Serena stared back. "Blair-"

"Please," Blair cut her off with a sneer. If she directed all her anger at the blonde then she didn't have to look anywhere else. And she didn't even know _why_ she was so angry. "You grew up in the city. I know you know how to aim at something. Nate's not going to decide he loves you just because you let him win at pool."

"Blair." And this time it was _his_ voice, almost a growl. It was the only thing Blair heard. (And she was aware that she was messing up the plan completely by being a bitch to Serena - by letting her nasty side out at all - which just went to prove how distracted she was.) Why couldn't they (he) just let her do this_ one_ thing?

"I've had enough." Her own voice came out cold as she didn't look once in his direction. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

She stalked out, leaving Nate and Serena to exchange helpless expressions. Nate was just wondering if he should maybe go after her - but then he realised, with a jolt, that Chuck was already heading out the door.

"Wait," Nate attempted. "I should-"

The other man barely spared him a glance. "Go back to your game." His tone was cordial even if it was clear his attention was already elsewhere. And Nate had no choice other than to stand back and let him go, plagued with that unsettling feeling that he was stuck in a situation he'd never fully understood.

Serena offered him a weak smile. At least she seemed to be in the same situation.

* * *

><p>Blair could<em> feel<em> him behind her as she strode down the corridor. Of course. But she had a head start, and she knew her way far better than he did. He didn't even know where her room was, let alone Tripp's. She just needed to get this over and done with. Just needed to make sure Tripp delivered that speech tomorrow. Just _one_ thing, for God's sake. And she couldn't deal with Chuck distracting her, Chuck looking at her and - what? Judging her? Challenging her? No. She had to get this over with.

She picked up her pace. He wouldn't catch her. She carried on until, sure enough, she couldn't hear his footsteps any more - and then she ducked into a side corridor and waited. Once she was sure the coast was clear she slipped out again, glancing behind her to check that he really wasn't there. He wasn't.

She turned - and nearly slammed straight into him.

His expression was still so cool. His eyebrow arched and his eyes dark. "Going somewhere?"

And her lip curled in that inexplicable anger as she took him in. "Yes," she spat. "To bed. I told you." She went to move past him.

He caught her hand before she could, turning it over. She flinched at his touch - he ignored it. And then in one easy movement he pulled the napkin from her cardigan sleeve. The one covered in Tripp's scrawl. "Nothing to do with this, then?"

Blair yanked her arm out of his hold. "Move, Chuck." Her expression was suddenly very cold. "This is none of your business." God, why couldn't he _move_? Why couldn't he get out of her way and let her get on with it?

"Well, you never mentioned it as part of the plan." His gaze was too penetrating and too _much_. "How is this going to succeed if you don't _tell_ me-"

"There's nothing to tell." Blair cut him off. She swallowed, pulling her stare away from his face. "It's just something I need to do. So let me do it."

Chuck's eyes slanted. "Why?"

"Why _what_?" she hissed back. Why was she doing it? Why did she need to? Why should he let her?

(When what he really meant was why wasn't she _telling_ him?)

"Chuck." She released a short breath. "Go back to the game. I'll see you tomorrow." And, before he could interrupt - "_Don't_ follow me."

So he watched her go, insides seething. She'd know as soon as he did follow her. He didn't _want_ her to cut him out. To brush him off, to go behind his back - and no. He didn't want her to go anywhere near Tripp van der Bilt, because the thought of the little slime ball even touching her made him feel physically sick. And the thought that she'd had to do what William van der Bilt wanted for so long, the knowledge that even now she wasn't completely free of him (he'd heard the pointed comments at dinner about Tripp's speech) - of course he didn't like it. But he knew that she had to do what she had to do; it was no different to all the things he'd done over the years for Jack, after all. They_ both_ knew what it was like. They'd grown up learning exactly how to manipulate people, learning to do what was necessary to survive.

So why was she trying so hard to hide it from him now?

* * *

><p>Blair paused outside Tripp's bedroom door. He had his own house with Maureen, of course - the only time he used his childhood room was when he was seeing Blair. She smoothed the material of her dress and reapplied her lipstick. Her heart still pounded with anger and an emotion she couldn't describe thanks to Chuck; but she pulled herself together, letting the familiar coolness engulf her instead. This was easy. She could do this.<p>

She turned the handle and arranged her features into a smile.

"Blair." Tripp's eyes lit up the second he saw her, and then he was grinning back with all the (irritating) boyish charm he possessed. He pulled her eagerly into the room and closed the door behind them. "I really missed you," he said, softly. Blair resisted the urge to kick him away like the stupid puppy that he was.

She wrapped her arms around him instead, stretching to kiss him. She'd kissed him many times before.

(His lips didn't burn).

"I missed you too."

He deepened the kiss, and she felt nothing as always. This was easy. She focused on kissing him back, already planning the best way to approach his speech for tomorrow. God, he was so easy.

"I love you," he whispered. "So much."

Her response was automatic as always. "I love you too." Easiest line in the book. She'd seen it in plays, read it in novels, watched sickening couple after sickening couple repeat it like a mantra. And always it had meant nothing.

Nothing.

His hand was cupping her face, and it did nothing. His touch had _never_ done anything - and if it hadn't been for Chuck then she wouldn't have known any different. If it hadn't been for _Chuck_ and that one goddamn night then she'd be kissing Tripp back easily, feigning the perfect response to his caresses instead of feeling that slow-burning rage build inside her again.

If it hadn't been for Chuck then she wouldn't be aching for kisses that burned, for hands that singed and knew exactly where to touch, for a body so perfectly in tune with hers -

She pushed Tripp down onto the bed. Hard.

He looked up at her in surprise. "B?" Even his _voice_ was wrong.

She leant down and kissed him hard enough to hurt. But he didn't kiss back even harder, like she needed. His mouth didn't respond to hers like she _ached_ for it to. She felt his pleasure through his surprise, instead, as his hands moved over her. Wrong and wrong.

She shut her eyes. And all she could see, searing into her eyelids, was Chuck's face. Chuck's voice ringing in her ears, downing out Tripp's noises of encouragement. _We make a great team. _Had he been mocking her? Mocking her because he'd known the whole time that she'd end up _here_? They hadn't been a team for eight years - and look, Blair thought bitterly, what she'd been doing instead. What she was still doing.

Except this time wasn't like the countless other times she'd been in bed with Tripp, or manipulated him with her body - because this time Chuck was _here. _Chuck knew, now, exactly what she'd become. Chuck was here. The only person who'd ever seen her was now witnessing her waste her time with a lovesick idiot - she'd seen the way Chuck had sneered at him through dinner - and she couldn't take it.

Tripp was looking up at her with enough blind adoration to make her throw up.

He reached for her again - and she shoved him off. She couldn't_ do_ it. She got to her feet while he stared, in confusion, from the bed. "B?"

"I just need a minute." Her voice came out strangled. "All the...emotion."

Her hand jerked on the door handle and she spun out before he could even react. Her heels echoed down the corridor, heart going crazy against her ribcage. She was _angry. _So angry she could hardly see straight - but she saw Chuck all right. Not in her head this time, but standing at the other end of the corridor. Watching her. Because despite what she'd explicitly told him, he'd followed her. Of course he had.

"Why aren't you with Nate and Serena?" She was so furious she could hardly speak. "Chuck, I _told_ you-"

"Why didn't you do it?" His voice was low. He hadn't been able to stop himself from following her - hadn't been able to stop the jealousy, the churning in his stomach. It didn't matter that he knew she was just using Tripp, didn't matter that he knew the other guy wasn't even worthy of her time. Didn't matter that sex had never meant anything to him before. Because all he'd been able to think about was the way she'd kissed _him_ that night, and the thought of her kissing anyone else like that -

"I dont know," she seethed. "Maybe because you distracted me. Which is exactly why I told you to _stay away._"

"Well," he snapped back, "I couldn't." Something flickered in her expression - but he didn't give her the chance to answer. "Maybe if you'd told me beforehand, instead of keeping it such a big secret-"

"It wasn't a_ secret_." Her face was fierce with denial, arms folded tight.

"I'm not Tripp van der Bilt," he snarled. "You can't lie." He'd advanced on her without realising, and she was suddenly aware of how close the wall was to her back as he glared down at her. "Not to me."

He was so close that she had to tilt her chin up to even look him in the eye. "I'm not."

He placed one hand against the wall to pin her in place - and even though he still wasn't _touching_ her, she felt like she was drowning. Drowning in him. "Why," he said very quietly, "Didn't you want to tell me?"

"Because."

His eyes moved over her face. "Because _what_?"

Her mouth closed like she wasn't going to answer. And there was something glittering in her gaze, something he strained to make sense of as he held her there.

"Because what?" he repeated. This time he was close enough that his breath touched her skin.

"_Because." _She swallowed, savage. She didn't want to admit it to him - it was too desperate. Too pathetic. "Because this isn't me." His brow knitted, and she shook her head. Her voice was unbearably tight as she fixed her eyes on the spot above his shoulder. She _couldn't_ look at him. "This isn't me."

This wasn't _them. _The Blair eight years ago would never have spent so much time bending over backwards to do what other people wanted. It wasn't manipulation when she was helping and flattering and _kissing_ the people she had no respect for. That Blair would never even have cared what other people wanted; she'd answered to no one and cared about no one except the only person that mattered. And that person was herself. That person was Chuck, because she was him and he was her and they would never, never have been separated. Not in mind or body or soul - if either of them even had souls.

She'd spent eight years pretending, and the Blair from the city would never have deigned to pretend for so long because she'd never been anyone but Blair. Chuck had made her that Blair again – Chuck made her brave and fierce and bold, but eight years ago Blair wouldn't have needed _anyone _to make her into anyone other than herself.

Eight years. She'd spent eight years lying and cheating and covering herself in layer after layer, trying to lose the half-wild girl, to hide her behind make up and pearls and dresses. Eight years of pretending. Eight years of doing what she was told, telling herself it was necessary – but necessary for what? For power and control, because she'd vowed never to let herself be in the situation where anyone could take away the only thing that mattered, where anyone could destroy her so completely, ever again. And now here she was eight years later, still scurrying to obey William van der Bilt because Chuck's fate – her fate – was in someone else's hands and out of her control once more. Control of _what_? Power over _what_? Over people; she liked that. She needed that. But why had she followed the rules for so long of a place – not even a city, a pathetic _borough – _that, like Serena said, she didn't even live in? Because she wasn't alive in Brooklyn, with all its stupid faux traditions and low-lying buildings that pretended to be old, its fake streets and fake grass and even faker roots. She lived, she _breathed _in the city. In the city she was Blair again, half savage and strong and free in the cold air, the wind and the heights of its jagged buildings. Real power was a rooftop and Chuck's hand in hers and the knowledge that no one could ever even touch them.

She finally watched him now; the black depths of his eyes and the hard, angled lines of his face. She could see herself in those eyes and in that face more than she ever had in all of Brooklyn's gilded mirrors.

His hand grazed her jaw, hot. "You think I don't know how good you are at pretending?" he murmured. He studied her. Held her in place. He finally understood it now – the same fear he'd felt in the Underground, the same disquiet of the only person who'd ever known him seeing a version of him that he'd tried so hard to remove from anything he'd used to be. But that was all it was, he realised. A version. An act. Meaningless sex and scotch, pearls and manners – as long as she was still there, anywhere, then he was too. "You really think I could ever not know exactly who you are?"

Her eyes closed as his lips replaced his touch on her jaw; as he kissed her brow, silently, mouth pressed to her hairline. He could breathe her in.

And then her hand was tightening round his, fingers entwined, hard, as she led him down the corridor, pulled him away from Tripp and away from all of it.

It wasn't until they were shut in the privacy of her room that he caught her fully, and then her lips were fused with his, grasping tight, struggling to breathe as her fingers ran over the stiff material of his shirt, finally loosening it, untying his bowtie and undoing his buttons. He slipped off her cardigan, caught her bare arms. And then he kissed the nape of her neck, her collarbone, as he turned her to unzip her dress. It fell to the floor and pooled with his shirt and her cardigan and his jacket, until it was just the two of them, skin on skin and heartbeat to heartbeat.

She sighed into his mouth, pressed against his chest – and she wrapped her arms around his neck fierce enough to choke him. He wrapped her legs around him too, gripping her waist as he backed her into the dresser.

He wanted the Blair who lied and stole and cheated, the Blair who acted and pretended so well she almost fooled herself (but never him); the Blair in pearls and the Blair in rags, hair braided, perfectly curled or a mess, lipstick or not – lipstick that he kissed off now – Blair who kissed him back and bit his lip, kicked him and caressed him, shoved him, dragged him, dug her nails in, killed and healed him in one night. He wanted all of her always, always, always. Even if he ached to be back in the city just as much as she did, as long as she was with him then nothing else mattered. As long as he was with her then he was exactly where he needed to be.

They forgot Tripp – they forgot William and they forgot Jack. Just for a moment. Because all that mattered was the heat of each other's bodies, the taste of each other's mouths and their limbs wrapped around each other, the feeling of Chuck fully inside her.

"I know you," he whispered in her ear as their breathing slowed. Sweat cooled and two hearts thudded against each other. His hand caught the back of her neck, immaculate curls damp, fingers seeking her spine. Her cheek was pressed against the hot skin of his chest. His voice brushed her skin. "Always."

* * *

><p><strong>AN - So I have to admit that the more I watch the actual show, the more I worry that my version of Blair is OOC because I can't actually remember what she used to be like. And I literally can't see any correspondence between the Blair in my head - or in this fic - and the one I'm watching on TV at the moment. So if anyone doesn't recognise this Blair...I apologise. I know this fic in particular takes a few liberties with her character (she's definitely not as romantic/ idealistic) - but I'd like to think on the whole she has Blair's essential ruthlessness and vulnerability for the people she loves? Just a little bit stripped of things like her Hepburn and fairytale obsession? Gulp. **

**Anyway, thank you so much for all your reviews! Also, a quick disclaimer - a lot of the dialogue in this chapter was inspired by Wuthering Heights: **

**"If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger...He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same." (Cathy, about Heathcliff)**

**"I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free... Why am I so changed? I'm sure I should be myself were I once among the heather on those hills."**

**Sorry for this long A/N! **


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